


a light that never goes out

by lyriumveins



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Musicians, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 09:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6234022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyriumveins/pseuds/lyriumveins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sorey is the new guitarist of an incredibly sub-par band and, truth be told, he loves everything about it. He’s settling into a comfortable routine of practicing and performing when his friends find out about his “complex feelings” for Mikleo, his classical pianist roommate who’s also tragically uninvolved in the band scene. Naturally, they decide to bring the two together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a light that never goes out

**Author's Note:**

> title comes from a song by the smiths - "[there is a light that never goes out](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n-cD4oLk_D0)."  
> also, this may be a modern AU and all, but spoiler warning for a reveal at the end of the pendrago shrinechurch arc!

“I can’t believe it,” Rose says, putting her feet up on the seat directly in front of her. “I can’t believe I let you drag me to  _this_.”

“Don’t be like that,” Sorey pokes at her leg. “I got the tickets for free. Put your feet down. You’ll get thrown out.”

“Good!” She exclaims, but she lets her feet fall to the floor, her black boots hitting the velvety red carpeting with a  _thunk_. “What am I  _doing_  here?!”

 _Here_ is a concert hall – the biggest one in their city. Pendrago is all about “the arts,” so the place is generously funded and gorgeous, to boot. Their seats are cushioned and a bit too plushy. Sorey suspects that one of these seats is more expensive than six months’ worth of his salary.

“There’s potted plants hanging from the ceiling,” Rose continues, pointing at the aforementioned plants. “ _From the ceiling_. And there was a huge-ass chandelier in the lobby. You realize how out of place we look, here, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sorey says, though he’s eyeing a couple seated few rows down. They’re laughing and clinking champagne glasses together.

“You could’ve at least told me to dress a  _little_ bit nicer,” Rose says.

“Would you have?” Sorey asks, grinning.

“No,” Rose replies. “But that’s not the point.” She zips up her leather jacket. “You knew about the dress code but you didn’t even _try_ , Sorey.”

“Hey!” Sorey inspects his hoodie. “What’s wrong with my outfit?!”

“It’s very grunge,” Rose says, “and not in the fashionable way. The feather earrings are a nice touch, though.”

“My good jeans were dirty,” Sorey says.

“So you wore your ratty ones?”

“They’re comfortable!”

Rose groans. “Why am I here, again?”

“I had an extra ticket, and my friend’s playing,” Sorey says. “His name’s Mikleo.”

“Right, right,” Rose drawls. “The infamous Mikleo. Sorey’s best-friend-slash-roommate who’s too good to come down to Spiritcrest.”

“A lot of people are too good to go to Spiritcrest,” Sorey says.

“True.” Rose huddles down in her seat. “We’re both too good to go, and yet we’re there every damn night, gorging ourselves on greasy chicken tenders and listening to the worst music imaginable.”

“One of us will make it,” Sorey says. “Just you wait.”

“There’s a snowball’s chance in hell that a record-label scout is going to end up in there,” Rose states. “Also, where are people getting that champagne?! I want some.”

A mousey-looking guy suddenly rushes on stage. “Erm… Hello!” His face is way too close to the mic and the feedback makes Sorey cringe a little. “Thank you all for coming to the annual Pendrago musical showcase!”

Everyone claps, even Rose – though she frowns and mouths “champagne” to Sorey, mourning the loss of what could have been.

“We will be opening with a performance by none other than Mikleo Rulay,” the announcer continues. “He will be performing a piano piece…”

“Hey!” Rose elbows Sorey, and Sorey glances away from the stage, tuning the announcer out.

“What?”

“That’s your friend, right?” Rose whispers. “He’s opening?  _Shit_ , he must be good.”

Sorey grins. “He’s the best,” he replies, also whispering. “He practices every day.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Rose says, still keeping her voice low. The lights of the concert hall dim, and a spotlight shines down on the stage, right on a grand piano. “Zaveid practices every day and he still sucks.”

Sorey almost bursts out into laughter – he covers his mouth just in time. 

“Though I guess he spends most of his practice sessions flirting with people,” Rose mutters.

“It’s networking,” Sorey replies, and she rolls her eyes.

The crowd is clapping again, and Sorey looks away from her and towards the stage. Mikleo’s walking on, wearing a fancy white shirt and form-fitting black pants.

“His hair is white and blue,” Rose points out, but Sorey shushes her. Mikleo’s hair is also parted down the middle – his “performance hairstyle,” which is more than a little hilarious – but it keeps his hair out of his eyes and gives him an air of regality, so it serves its purpose.

He looks so small and so crisp and so… Put-together. He bows and walks over to the piano, taking a seat in front of it.

Then, he starts playing.

Sorey grins. He never knows the songs that Mikleo plays. He’s a history buff, yeah, but Sorey’s not classically trained by any means at all, so the names escape him. He  _does_  recognize this as the song that Mikleo’s played, time and time again, over the past month.

They got a few noise complaints, but that’s because their neighbors are grumpy. Sorey dealt with them by presenting them with treats that Mikleo prepared, himself.

Also, cards. They wrote some nice cards.

The light catches in Mikleo’s hair and his fingers move so  _gracefully_ around the keyboard, dancing over its keys. Watching Mikleo play the piano was almost as much of an art as hearing him play, or at least it felt that way to Sorey.

There’s no denying it – Mikleo’s absolutely beautiful.

He nails the first song, seamlessly starting up the second. Sorey remembers Mikleo practicing that transition for  _hours_ , and he’s beaming with pride. He can’t hide it. Admittedly, Sorey isn’t exactly one for this sort of music – no, he likes guitars and drums and  _lyrics_ – but he loves the sounds that Mikleo can make. He makes it look so easy, but it’s really not.

Sorey’s tried.

The best he can get out of the piano in their apartment is a sloppy rendition of  _Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star_. He sings along whenever he plays it, to Mikleo’s endless amusement _._

Mikleo finishes the second song and the audience’s applause is thunderous. Sorey tries to out-clap them all – he even stands up – because, darn it, Mikleo is  _his_ best friend and he deserves a standing ovation. Rose is clapping, too, and shaking her head.

“Why the hell isn’t that guy in your band?” Rose asks, while Mikleo bows and walks off-stage. “Like, seriously. If he joined your band, you guys would stop sucking by a lot.”

“He’s not interested in that kind of stuff,” Sorey says. “I don’t want to push him or anything.”

“How kind of you,” Rose says, dryly.

“I know, right?” Sorey smiles.

 A few other people play, too. A tall guy whose face seems to be set in a permanent scowl performs an elaborate clarinet piece, and a willowy woman plays her harp. Sorey’s pretty zoned out when the announcer declares another name –

“Alisha Diphda!”

A girl – about the same age as Sorey, it looks like – walks on stage, violin poised on her shoulder. She’s wearing a short, navy dress and simple, black leggings.

“Holy crap.”

Sorey glances at Rose, quizzical. “Do you know her?”

“No,” Rose says, and she doesn’t elaborate further.

Alisha plays her violin, and she’s very, very skilled. Sorey can tell that she adores her instrument, which is always a plus…

Rose can’t take her eyes off the performance, and when it’s over, her applause is rapid and  _loud_  and she even cheers a few times. That earns her a few glares from various audience members. Alisha blushes and bows, then scurries off-stage.

“Sorey,” Rose says. “I need to meet that girl. Right now.  _Immediately_.”

“I can’t help you there,” Sorey says. “Mikleo might know her, though.”

“Tell Mikleo I’ll do  _anything_  to meet that girl.” Rose clears her throat. “In, like, a not-creepy way, I mean.”

“You can tell him yourself,” Sorey says. “I wanna meet up with him afterwards.”

“Sweet,” Rose says, with a mischievous little grin that, frankly, worries Sorey just a  _tad_.

They watch the rest of the recital and it passes without much incident. Rose spends a lot of time rapidly texting on her phone then promptly falls asleep. Sorey listens to everyone’s performances (and makes sure that Rose doesn’t start  _sleep-fighting_ , as she’s prone to), but Mikleo’s the one who’s on his mind.

Mikleo’s been playing the piano forever – ever since they were kids living together in Elysia, a small town in the mountains. The old man who looked after them – Gramps – was his teacher. He got better and better and Sorey’s just so  _proud_. Seeing him playing live, in a formal setting – it was the best, even though Sorey was never one for these fancy events.

Sorey’s interested in music, of course. He’s a guitarist, and he’s not a bad vocalist, either. Sorey’s musical “events” were just… Well, they had less expensive, fine champagne and significantly more cheap, cruddy liquor.

Sorey doesn’t drink, though.

Just a beer every now and then, which is usually forced upon him by an overly-enthusiastic bandmate. The appeal of beer is lost on Sorey, but he obliges to appease them.

The announcer scurries back on stage and says some parting remarks, then all the performers walk back on-stage to take a final bow. The crowd roars with applause – which, somehow, doesn’t wake Rose up.

Sorey can tell that Mikleo’s scanning the audience for him, and their eyes meet.  _Yes_! Sorey waves wildly, and Mikleo laughs, covering his mouth and looking a little out of breath.

And, honestly, Sorey would brave  _countless_ fancy venues in his unfashionably-grunge getups if it meant seeing Mikleo laugh like that.

~

“So, Mikky,  _who_ is that Alisha girl?”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Rose,” Mikleo says with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you.” Rose takes a quick swig of her soda. “Alisha was, like, a  _goddess_. Right, Sorey?”

Sorey shrugs and gives Mikleo a very sympathetic look.

“Do you like her?” Mikleo asks.

“Psh! No!” Rose hollers, slamming her soda down. A few patrons of the family restaurant stare at them curiously. The three decided to come over here to eat, as a little congratulatory dinner for Mikleo…

 _Though Rose seems to have some ulterior motives_ , Sorey thinks, slurping his vanilla milkshake.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Mikleo retorts. “I was talking to Sorey.”

Sorey stares blankly at Mikleo. “Huh? What?”

Mikleo sighs. “Do you _like_ her?” He repeats.

“Alisha?”

Mikleo nods.

“She was okay,” Sorey says. “Uh, pretty talented.” Rose is glaring  _daggers_ at him. “Kind of… Fancy.”

“Everyone was fancy,” Rose states. “Alisha was like – like an angel.”

“It was her first time performing at that venue,” Mikleo says.

“Like an angel, sent from heaven.” Rose doesn’t seem to hear him.

“You were really good, Mikleo!” Sorey tries to change the subject, before Rose starts full-on waxing poetic. “You definitely stole the show. All that practice paid off!”

“Thanks, Sorey,” Mikleo says, with a small smile. His hair isn’t parted down the middle anymore – it’s brushed to the side and sticking up a little. That’s the way he normally wears it, and it’s Sorey’s favorite.

“You’re too good,” Rose says. “ _Opening_  for Pendrago Hall? At  _your_ age, and a new resident, to boot? Dang.”

“I was surprised, too. They wanted someone young this time,” Mikleo says. “Something about inspiring young musicians.”

“Well, good for them,” Rose says. “Hey, you should come down to Spiritcrest, Mikleo.  _That’s_ where you’ll find all the good shit.”

“Along with a lot of grease,” Sorey adds. “A  _lot_ of grease.”

Mikleo laughs. “Spiritcrest’s not really my style,” he says.

Sorey wants to object – to drag him down there, anyway.

He’d just… Feel bad.

Going to Mikleo’s fancy receptions was one thing.

It was another thing to drag Mikleo to a seedy bar to listen to amateur bands trying their best to get out there… Including Sorey’s own band.

“Spiritcrest’s a dump, but it’s  _our_ dump,” Rose says, grinning. “We’ll look out for you! Sorey doesn’t seem like the type to hang out there, either, but he has a good time.”

“That’s true,” Mikleo admits.

“He’s so innocuous,” Rose says.

“I am,” Sorey says, nodding enthusiastically.

“Dezel can be a little intimidating, but he’s a big softie. And Lailah would love you,” Rose continues. “Oh, but if a shirtless guy with long hair hits on you, just ignore him.”

“That’s just Zaveid,” Sorey says. “I’ve told you about him.”

“The drummer of your band, right?” Mikleo pinches his nose-bridge. “Yeah. I’ve… Heard a  _lot_ about Zaveid.”

“So, you’ll come?” Rose asks, beaming.

“Maybe,” Mikleo says, with a tight-lipped smile.

“Good. You two have been in Pendrago for  _two months_  – Mikleo’s gotta visit.” Rose glugs down the rest of her soda. “Also!” She points a finger at Mikleo. “You  _will_ get me Alisha’s number! And, preferably, bring her to me when my band’s playing!”

Mikleo shrugs, then pops one of Sorey’s fries in his mouth. “I’ll see what I can do,” he says.

“Hold him to it, Sorey,” Rose says with a roguish little wink. Sorey grins and nods.

~

“It’s too cold,” Mikleo says as they step outside. The sun is setting and everything’s bathed in amber-colored light. “Crap, I should’ve brought a proper jacket.” He wraps his arms around himself.

“It’s supposed to start snowing, later,” Sorey comments. “Are you going home now?”

Mikleo nods. “The performance adrenaline is wearing off. Tragic, I know.”

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Sorey asks, concerned.

“Huh? You’re ditching Spiritcrest tonight?” Rose tilts her head, giving Sorey a startlingly  _knowing_ look.

“I can go to Spiritcrest after,” Sorey replies.

“No, it’s fine, I don’t need anyone to walk me back,” Mikleo says. “Spiritcrest is in the opposite direction, anyway.”

“Oh, okay.” Something about that doesn’t sit right with Sorey, but he brushes the feeling off. “Hey! I’ll lend you my hoodie.”

Sorey unzips it and shrugs it off, then puts it on Mikleo. “You don’t have to,” Mikleo says, softly.

“No! You’re cold! And, besides…” Sorey slaps a hand against his chest. “I’m warm-blooded!”

Mikleo sighs. Rose guffaws.

 _That was a good one_ , Sorey thinks to himself.

“If you insist,” Mikleo mutters, as Sorey zips the front of the hoodie up for him. “Rose, thanks for coming.”

“No problem!” She puts her hands behind her head. “Don’t forget – bring Alisha to me! ASAP!”

Mikleo waves dismissively. “Have fun. Be safe.”

“Will do!” Sorey calls out after him, as he starts walking away.

And, the very second that Mikleo is out of earshot, Rose puts her hands on Sorey’s shoulders.

“You,” she says, “are so  _fucking_  obvious.”

~

“He gave him his hoodie,” Rose says. “He zipped it up! It was like an anime, or something.”

“Don’t say that word while you’re at a bar,” Dezel grumbles.

“Anime!” Rose repeats. “Anime, anime, anime!”

Dezel groans, tipping his top hat further down on his face, as if it’ll conceal the fact that he associates with her.

“It was just a hoodie,” Sorey says, trying to keep his tone even. “He was cold!”

“You shared your fries with him!”

“Yeah, but he cooks for me,” Sorey says. “If Mikleo didn’t live with me, I’d be hungry and miserable.  _Constantly_. He has fry-stealing privileges.”

“That doesn’t help your case,” Dezel mutters, and Sorey knows that he’s right but he doesn’t admit it.

“Not to mention the way you _look_ at him,” Rose points out. “You look at him like… The way –”

“The way you looked at that girl?” Sorey interrupts. “Alisha?”

“Hey!” Rose splutters. “Low blow!”

“ _Alisha_?!” Dezel’s alert. “Who’s Alisha?”

“She’s a perfectly lovely girl, relax,” Rose says. “A violinist.”

Dezel frowns, clearly unconvinced.

“The fact of the matter is that Sorey has a huge crush on his best-friend-slash-roommate,” Rose says. “I can tell. It’s obvious. Anyone can see it. Even Dezel can, and he can’t even  _see_.”

“Nice one,” Dezel says, flatly.

“Sorry, I forget sometimes.” Rose perks up. “Anyway! How long has this been a  _thing_?!”

Sorey eyes her warily from his barstool. On one hand, this is something he’d rather not get into because his feelings concerning Mikleo are… Confusing. They’re hard to define and a little terrifying because they have the potential to ruin his life. But, on the other hand, Sorey hates lying and isn’t about to lie to his friends. “It’s…” His voice trails off – he inhales, exhales. “It’s been a long time,” he admits. “I still don’t know what  _it_ is, but  _it’s_ been forever.”

“Like, what?” Rose swivels around in her stool. “A year?”

“I can’t pinpoint it,” Sorey says. “I’ve known him forever.”

“So you’ve had a crush on him forever?” Rose asks, and Dezel grabs his bottle of beer from the counter.

“Right, on that note, I’m going to head out,” he says, snapping his white cane so it extends out. “I’ll be with Lailah.”

“Ooh, no!” Rose grabs onto his arm. “Dez, go  _bring_ Lailah! She needs to hear this, too. She’s all about this stuff.”

“She’s prepping for  _your_ show,” Dezel says. “The one tomorrow night.”

Rose stares up at him. “Oh, crap,” she says.

“Oh, crap, indeed.” Dezel pulls away. “I’ll tell her. You two can continue whatever…  _This_ is.” 

“Thanks,” Rose says as he walks off.

Sorey groans and leans against the counter. Spiritcrest isn’t exactly a big hotspot for musicians (or anyone, really – it’s as shabby as these types of bars come), but it’s pretty crowded tonight. At the stage directly ahead of the bar, a flashy trio starts blaring what sounds like a synthpop remix of a Gregorian chant.

“Ugh,  _Lords of the Land_ are playing tonight? Yikes,” Rose squints at them. “Edna’s going to have a field day with this. Well, whatever. Not important. Tell me more about Mikleo!”

“He’s just Mikleo,” Sorey says. “I’ve known him since we were babies, we grew up together. He’s always been my best friend. I don’t know if it’s a crush. Whatever it is, it just kind of… Happened.” Sorey started noticing the way his fingers moved, thin and sharp and delicate yet strong. Being around Mikleo just felt… Good. Sorey felt safe with him, no matter what, as corny as that might sound.

“I getcha,” Rose says. “Anyway! You’re clearly hopeless at this stuff, but it’s all good!” She slaps him on the back reassuringly. “We’ll help you out. We’ve got this.”

Sorey nods, because, yes, he  _is_ hopeless at this stuff. “Thanks, Rose.”

She puffs her chest out, smiling triumphantly. It  _would_ be a very admirable moment, but Lailah emerges from the crowd and  _crashes_ into her.

Lailah’s wearing a short, red dress – frilly and sleeveless, to show off the tattoos on her arms (sophisticated, swirling fire patterns, flowers and paper cranes – she designed them herself).

She’s also clutching onto Rose’s shoulders.

“Is it true?!” Lailah screams, loud enough to be heard over the music. “You’re  _dating_  someone, Sorey?!”

Sorey splutters. “We’re just, ah…”

“Sorey has  _complex feelings_ about his roommate,” Rose states, pushing Lailah off gently. “His piano-playing roommate, Mikleo.”

Lailah squeals and claps her hands. “I can’t believe this! I  _need_ to meet him!” She looks around. “…Where is he?!”

“He’s at home,” Sorey says. “Probably asleep.”

“Aw! I wanted to see him tonight,” Lailah says, pouting. “Bring him next time, okay, Sorey?” She brushes her long, loose hair back. “Do you have any pictures of him?”

Sorey can feel his cheeks getting hot, but he pulls his phone out of his pocket anyway. He turns on the lock screen, illuminating a picture of him and Mikleo, sitting and smiling, side by side, in their living room.

It was empty when they took it. The classic, celebratory  _we have an apartment now!_ selfie. A couch, several bookshelves, a piano and a shabby little guitar stand are now filling up all of the empty space shown in the photo.

It’s special, regardless.

Sorey hasn’t changed his lock screen in two months.

Lailah coos, clasping her hands together. “He’s so cute! He’d look great with long hair.”

“I like his hair the way it is,” Sorey says, though Mikleo somehow looks good with any hairstyle, even the goofy parted one he wears for shows.

“Typical,” Rose says. “So, what’s the action plan, Lailah?”

“There’s certain shampoos you can use that aid hair growth,” Lailah says – Rose whacks her playfully and Sorey laughs.

“I meant the plan to get them together!” Rose clarifies. “The hair thing can come later.”

Lailah puts a finger on her chin and hums. “He’s a pianist, right? Why don’t you ask him to join  _Zaveid and the Boys?”_

“That is  _not_ our name.” Dezel emerges from the crowd, too, beer bottle in one hand and cane in the other.

“What? Did it change again?” Lailah asks – it’s a genuine question, not snark. Dezel, Sorey and Zaveid still haven’t come up with a proper band name.

Technically, they’ve been a band for around three weeks, so it’s excusable.

Dezel thinks it’s awkward that they’ve prefaced two out of their three shows with name-change announcements, but Sorey’s fine with it.

Edna, the resident critic, mocks them for it in her reviews, but she mocks everyone, so it’s okay.

Weather Vane is the official Spiritcrest magazine and it’s basically known for her harsh journalism. She runs it with Eizen, the owner of the bar. Incidentally, he’s also her older brother. They both wear a lot of eyeliner. It's pretty incredible.

“I still like  _Sorey and the Shepherds_  more,” Sorey says.

“I think you guys need to break away from the general format you’re stuck on,” Rose says. “Just a suggestion.”

Sorey laughs and Dezel nods solemnly.

“But, anyway, Lailah’s right!” Rose exclaims. “I told you, Sorey. You should ask him to join your band. It’ll be like, a bonding experience, or something.”

“I don’t know if he’d agree.” Sorey leans against the counter and looks over at  _Lords of the Land_. They’re asking the audience for “offerings,” naturally. They always do that between songs. “I mean, he focuses more on classical stuff.”

“Does he want to be a classical pianist?” Lailah asks. “As a career?”

“No, he’s only mentioned wanting to teach piano lessons to kids,” Sorey says. “He likes working with books. He has a job at the same library I work at.”

“Oh,” Lailah breathes. “You live together  _and_ work at the same place together? Oh, my.” She covers her mouth with a hand, giggling.

“We have a lot of similar interests,” Sorey admits, scratching the back of his head. “Really, though. He auditions for a lot of fancy stuff. I don’t know if he’d be into… This.”

“He just has to give it a try,” Lailah says. “Okay, how about this? Just get him to come to Spiritcrest for now. Or perhaps he can go to one of your practice sessions?”

Dezel grimaces and Rose elbows him in the stomach, causing him to have a coughing fit.

“Well...” Sorey thinks. “If it’s okay with the rest of the band…?”

Dezel recovers from the coughing fit, but he can’t form words yet so he just nods a lot. “’S fine,” he manages to get out.

“Wonderful! I’ll have a talk with Zaveid about  _conduct_!” Lailah says, cheerfully. “Be right back!” She turns around on her heel and dashes off into the crowd, seamlessly. She knows  _exactly_ how to navigate around these venues – Sorey still struggles.

He feels bad pushing people.

Not like he’s doing  _forceful_ pushes, or anything.

It just… Makes him feel bad.

He kind of just murmurs a steady stream of apologies and hopes for the best.

Lailah has more experience, though. Her band,  _the Lady in the Lake_ , is one of the less-terrible ones that plays at Spiritcrest. Rose is, incidentally, her drummer.

“We probably should’ve told Lailah to keep the whole potential-crush thing secret,” Rose says. “Not sure if we want Zaveid to know that info just yet.”

“Zaveid  _can_ do a lot of damage,” Dezel agrees, nodding.

“…He won’t mess everything up?” Sorey means to defend Zaveid, totally, but that somehow comes out as a question.

Rose guffaws. “Too late, now!”

“Lailah is in the same room as us,” Dezel says. “We can stop her.”

Rose squints at him. “Do  _you_ wanna go through that crowd? Those new-wave hippies are scrambling to throw apple-flavored candy on  _the Lords of the Land_ ’s set.”

Upon hearing that, Dezel makes a particularly disgusted face. “I was wondering why it smells so gross in here.”

“Grosser than usual, you mean,” Rose says.

Sorey gasps. “That’s apple candy?! Apple candy is one of my favorites!”

“Then buy a bag of it before practice,” Dezel says. “Come on. Let’s go outside and wait for Zaveid.”

“Boo!” Rose pouts, but then grins. “Need me to pick you up after?”

“Zaveid has that covered. I’ll call you if anything,” Dezel replies. “You should get practice in. Your show’s tomorrow.”

Rose sticks her tongue out at him, and the two of them banter a bit – something about the dangers of overworking versus not working at all. Sorey grins. Anyone spending a minute with the two of them could immediately pick up on how close they are. They’ve been living together for years, too.

Dezel eventually hands Rose his (empty) beer bottle, much to her horror (“What am I supposed to do with this?!”). He then drags Sorey out of Spiritcrest before he can offer to throw the beer bottle away for her.

As they step out into the night, the cold air hits Sorey like a wall of glass. “Wow! It’s cold out here!”

“Hey.” Dezel ignores his little exclamation. “You realize that you’ve essentially sealed your fate now, right?”

Sorey stares up at him and Dezel sighs.

“You know how those people get,” he says, in lieu of an actual explanation. “Now tell me who this _Alisha_  is.”

~

“Are you fucking kidding?!”

“Nope.” Zaveid overtakes the car in front of them, earning the angry blare of a horn. “I cashed in a favor with Eizen. You’re welcome.”

“That was reckless driving,” Dezel says. “Also, I’m going to kill you.”

Sorey’s sitting in the backseat, munching on apple-flavored gummies while Dezel and Zaveid bicker in the front. They’re off to practice at Zaveid’s place – Sorey’s guitar and Dezel’s bass are already in the trunk of Zaveid’s van from last night’s practice session.

“You didn’t consider asking the rest of your band?!” Dezel’s in a bit of a state.

“Fine.” Zaveid glances in the rearview mirror, making eye contact with Sorey. “Sorey, gig, tomorrow night. Thoughts?”

“Sounds good to me!” Sorey pops another gummy in his mouth. Zaveid laughs, loud and booming, while Dezel groans.

“See?” Zaveid smirks, his eyes once more on the road. “Everything’s fuckin’ peachy!”

“We don’t have a  _name_ yet, jackass,” Dezel says. “We barely have a song.”

“Hey! We have four songs!” Sorey feels very strongly about these four songs’ existence, even though they’re… Kind of messy.

The three of them can  _play_ , it’s just… They don’t have a consistent style.

“We don’t need a name,” Zaveid says, turning up the radio’s volume. It’s set to the local band station – lo-fi garage rock fills the car. “It’s all about networking, man. We can just keep using  _Zaveid and the Boys_  for now.”

Dezel mutters a steady stream of obscenities under his breath.

“Are we playing with  _the Lady in the Lake_?” Sorey asks.

“Yeah,” Zaveid replies, stopping at a red light. “We’re gonna open for them. Two songs.”

“We’re doomed,” Dezel says.

Zaveid slaps him on the back. “That’s our Dezel, always so damn optimistic!”

“I try,” Dezel says, sarcastically. Sorey laughs and keeps eating his gummies.                                                                                    

“Listen, this is fate,” Zaveid states. “Lailah told me all about Sorey’s big, gay crush.”

“It’s not a crush!” Sorey exclaims, despite the fact that his mouth is filled with gummies. “It’s a complicated… Emotion...”

“Calling it that makes it even gayer, but okay,” Zaveid says as the light changes to green. “Point is, nothing impresses  _anyone_  more than a rock band.”

“Mikleo likes classical music.”

“Even better.”

 _Oh_. Sorey didn’t see that coming.

“It’s like,” Zaveid continues, “a bad boy sort of thing. It makes you a rebel and – believe me – rebels are in high demand.”

“A bad boy?” Sorey repeats, and Dezel snorts, covering his mouth as if to keep laughter back. Sorey’s not sure why, exactly, but he’s glad.

“Sorey’s the least rebellious person in the world,” Dezel says once he’s collected himself.

“Exactly!” Zaveid exclaims. “But he’s in a band! So when Mike Lower sees you on-stage, he’ll get all hot and bothered. Seriously. Trust me.”

“His name’s Mikleo,” Sorey says. “Not Mike Lower.”

“Whatever. You’re missing the point.”

Sorey’s confused, because his goal isn’t to make Mikleo hot or bothered (frankly, both of those things sound uncomfortable), but he lets it slide.

“He’s a pianist, so we were thinking about recruiting him into the band,” Dezel says as Zaveid pulls his van into his driveway.

Zaveid rents a condo. He says that the “ultimate bachelor pads” are always condos. Again, Sorey’s confused by that logic (what exactly is a bachelor pad?), but he likes Zaveid’s place. There’s always a lot of weird magazines and instant noodles.

“Why not,” Zaveid says, turning off the ignition and shifting the parking brake into place. “I don’t see how that’d fuck anything up catastrophically. Is he any good?”

“He’s the best,” Sorey says, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I mean it. He’s the best ever.”

Zaveid rolls his eyes as he gets out of the car. Even though it’s cold, he’s only wearing a tight black undershirt and leather pants. “You wanna bang him. Your opinion doesn’t mean shit.”

“Bang?!” Sorey flushes immediately and Zaveid barks out a laugh. “I didn’t –  _wha_  – Bang?!”

“Stop messing with him, dumbass,” Dezel snaps at Zaveid, also getting out of the car. “Mikleo’s good. He opened for the concert at Pendrago Hall.”

“The one today?”

“Yeah.”

Zaveid whistles, pulling the van’s trunk open. “No wonder he doesn’t show his face at Spiritcrest. Little Mikleo thinks he’s too good for us.”

Rose said that earlier, too, but, for some reason, it stings Sorey this time. “That’s not it.”

“Aw, don’t pout,” Zaveid says, reaching into the trunk. “Here!” He hands Sorey his guitar case. It’s worn-down and some areas are patched up with duct tape. “Sorey” is written across its side in black permanent marker – Rose drew a little smiley face in the “o” of his name. Not willing to sacrifice his half-full bag of apple gummies, Sorey grabs onto the case with his free hand.

He hands Dezel his bass case, too – which is, of course, not scuffed at all.

“Just get Mikleo to come to tomorrow night’s show and you’ll be making out with him in no time,” Zaveid says, slamming the trunk shut, and Sorey’s secretly glad that he changed the subject. “I’m an excellent wingman.”

“Your track record says otherwise,” Dezel grumbles.

“ _That’s_ because  _someone_ is totally impossible to set up,” Zaveid retorts.

“I told you,” Dezel snaps, “I’m not looking for anyone right now!”

The two start squabbling again as they walk towards Zaveid’s house, and Sorey looks up into the night sky. It’s chillier than it was earlier, and his breath puffs in little mists.

The snow hasn’t started falling yet, but it’s still too cloudy to see any stars.

~

Sorey opens the door to his apartment at 2a.m., according to the digital clock hung up in the living room. His ears are ringing from practice and his mouth still tastes like apple gummies and he’s freezing because it started snowing while he was walking back.

The apartment is dark and it smells like vanilla – Mikleo’s always burning these fancy scented candles, Sorey loves them. None of the candles are lit right now but the apartment is still warm and welcoming. As Sorey locks the door behind him, he can’t believe this place already feels so  _familiar_. It feels the way a home should feel.

He fumbles around in the dark, managing to get his guitar case onto the couch before heading into the room that he shares with Mikleo.

It was cheaper to buy a single-bedroom apartment. Plus, Sorey and Mikleo have shared a room for  _years_. It’d feel weird if they stopped now.

Sorey can only imagine what the Spiritcrest gang would have to say about that.

He shakes that thought off and heads to the bathroom, doing his nightly routine. He pulls pajama pants and a sweater on afterwards because it’s just  _too cold_.

Sorey then heads over to the bed – dodging the various  _towers of books_ that have been set up around the room – and, of course, Mikleo’s asleep under a heavy layer of blankets. Sorey notices that Mikleo must’ve grabbed extra blankets from their storage closet and he has to suppress the urge to crack up.

He slowly pulls  _some_ blankets away from Mikleo, who doesn’t so much as budge, and, for some reason, a knot forms in his throat.

It’s… New. Definitely new.

Sorey isn’t the type to mull over this sort of thing. He’d rather leave the specifics to someone else – namely, Mikleo, himself.

He can’t go to Mikleo about this particular problem, though. Not yet. 

Mikleo lets out a little snore and grumbles something about iced tea in his sleep. He then shifts over to his side, curling deeper into his blanket collection.

Sorey finally crawls into bed instead of staring at Mikleo while he sleeps like some kind of creep. His heart’s beating fast and he can feel his palms getting a little sweaty and it’s so  _weird_ , this is  _Mikleo_ , he’s the most comfortable around Mikleo – and yet –

He sighs softly.

There was no use mulling it over, now.

Sorey closes his eyes and takes some deep breaths, thinking about tomorrow’s show – about the lyrics he wrote tonight, about the new amp Dezel bought, about rusty guitar strings and about his childhood friend’s fingers ghosting over piano keys.

He’s thinking about a question he’ll need to ask tomorrow when sleep overcomes him.

~

Sorey opens his eyes and smells pancakes and bacon. He shoots out of bed and ends up sliding to the floor in a heap of blankets.

“Wow. So graceful, Sorey.”

Sorey laughs as he sits up. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“You’re the one laughing.” Mikleo’s standing in the doorway, a smug smile on his face.

“True,” Sorey says, attempting to untangle himself from his blanket prison. “Uh… A little help, here?”

Mikleo sighs and pretends to be  _tremendously_ bothered as he walks over to help Sorey – rolling his eyes and walking sluggishly – which makes Sorey laugh even harder.

It’s morning. Light’s filtering into the room through the blinds. It catches in Mikleo’s hair in ways that make Sorey want to put his hands in it.

“Why’d you take so many of these, anyway?” Sorey asks, raising up a green blanket with a white paw-print pattern all over it.

“I was cold!” Mikleo says. “Our heater is still broken.  _Someone_ forgot to tell our landlord.”

Sorey scratches the back of his head. “Oops.”

“ _Oops_ , indeed,” Mikleo says, untangling the last blanket. “I made breakfast. Go eat.”

“What about you?” Sorey asks, feeling a little childish as he stands up.

“I already ate,” Mikleo says. “I have a shift at work today.”

“What? Seriously?” That explains why Mikleo’s already dressed and his hair is already neatly combed. The two of them walk out of the bedroom together.

“Yeah. I’m covering for someone.”

“Are you leaving now?” Sorey asks. The events of last night are flooding back into his brain and he  _needs_ to somehow convince Mikleo to come to their show tonight and he can’t possibly do that if Mikleo’s just going to leave and –

“No, I have some time.” A tiny smile. “I want to drink some coffee, anyway.”

“Nice!” Sorey chirps, trying to hide the relief in his voice. He takes a seat at their kitchen table. It’s small – just big enough for two people, with two seats. A bottle of syrup is already on the table.

“Mhm.” Mikleo hands Sorey a plate with three pancakes stacked up on it. “How was practice?”

“It was good!” Sorey pours syrup all over them. “Zaveid broke his drumsticks.”

“Again?!”

“Yeah.” Sorey shrugs, taking a huge bite out of his breakfast. Syrup dribbles down his chin and onto his sweater. “He gets excited.”

“You’re making a huge mess,” Mikleo says, pouring some coffee out for himself and Sorey. “I’m glad you had fun, though.”

“I did,” Sorey says, dabbing at his chin with a napkin. “It was  _so_ fun. The most fun. Just… Really, really fun. A…”

Mikleo raises an eyebrow, placing the two cups on the table and taking a seat.

“…A really enjoyable time,” Sorey finishes. He clears his throat. “How about you? How was your night?”

“It was fine,” Mikleo says, but he sounds like he’s trying to work out some sort of puzzle.

Sorey just wants Mikleo to know how  _fun_ being in a band is!  _There’s nothing suspicious about that_ , he thinks to himself.  _Nothing suspicious at all_.

“I just went to sleep, I was pretty tired… Oh, I washed your hoodie, by the way,” Mikleo says. “It smelt like Cheetos.”

“Yeah, Edna threw a bag of them on me a few days ago,” Sorey admits. “Things got kind of chaotic.”

“Edna’s the girl at Spiritcrest, right?” Mikleo asks, sipping at his coffee. “The one who writes those reviews?”

“Yeah! That’s her,” Sorey says.

Sorey knows he has to be careful. He knows that, in order to minimize his chances of rejection, he needs to ask Mikleo this question when he’s in a good mood – when he’s happy and laughing at some sort of wacky anecdote.

That being said, Sorey also knows that he’s overthinking it.

This is  _Mikleo_  – he doesn’t have to be nervous, not at all.

Rose and Zaveid were just kidding. Mikleo doesn’t really think he’s too good for them.

Mikleo’s his best friend and he’s always supported him. Always.

That’s what makes him so incredible.

“Hey, you know, you really should come down sometime!” Still, Sorey’s voice comes out really high-pitched and it cracks a little towards the end. “Everyone would love to properly meet you.”

“To Spiritcrest?” Mikleo repeats.

“Yeah!” Sorey takes another huge bite out of his pancakes. “We have a show tonight. I mean, you don’t have to. It’s kind of short notice. Everyone just really wants to meet you. I showed them a picture of you last night, and Rose was saying some, uh, stuff, and –”

“Okay,” Mikleo says, and his answer is so quick that it takes Sorey by surprise. “Sure. Yeah.”

“Sweet.” Sorey tries to play it off cool, taking another quick bite of his food. “The show starts at 10, but I’ll be there early. Rehearsing.”

“Okay.”

Sorey can’t play it off cool —he smiles wide. “Mikleo!”

“W-What?” Mikleo blushes and Sorey’s smile widens.

“Thank you!” Sorey points his fork at Mikleo. “You’ll have the best time ever, I swear. I’ll even call out your name on-stage.”

Mikleo’s blush deepens. “Please don’t.”

“Aw! Why not?!” Sorey laughs, lowering his fork. He can’t believe that getting Mikleo to Spiritcrest was  _that_ easy – why was he even nervous last night?!

“Because it’d be embarrassing!” Mikleo chugs the rest of his coffee and sets the mug down on the table. “Do you want me to bring any books home from the library?”

“Yes! Definitely!” Sorey shoots up from the table. “Wait a sec, I have a list!” He dashes off, back towards their room. “Oh!” He halts and turns back around to face Mikleo. “Can you return the stuff from last week, too?”

Mikleo frowns.

“Please?”

He’s still frowning.

“ _Pretty please_?”

He sighs. “Fine, Sorey.”

“Nice! You’re the best!” Sorey laughs and runs into their room, grabbing a stack of books about ancient Sumerian architecture. Sorey and Mikleo’s eight bookshelves are already completely filled up – now they just kind of pile books around the apartment and hope for the best.

He also grabs a piece of paper on his bedside table. “EVERY SINGLE FAILED INVASION OF RUSSIA” is written across it in big, bold letters, along with a doodle of a blob that is vaguely Russia-shaped and a bulleted list of book titles.

When Sorey heads back into the kitchen, Mikleo already has his messenger bag. Cheeks still a little ruddy –  _Mikleo blushes for such a long time_  –  he takes the books from Sorey and carefully packs them into his bag.

He’s always been so meticulous.

Sorey’s always been all over the place.

“Well then, I’m off,” Mikleo says, neatly folding Sorey’s list and putting it in his pocket. “Make sure you take your phone with you.”

“Gotcha,” Sorey says. “I’ll see you tonight!”

“Yes, you will.” Mikleo smiles, and as he heads for the front door, Sorey feels like he should  _do_ something but he’s not sure what.

“Have a great day!” he calls out, instead of doing whatever his gut is telling him to do. 

“You too,” Mikleo says, and the door shuts behind him.

Sorey sits in the accompanying silence for a bit.

He then clenches his fists and lets out something akin to a victory cry.

~

Spiritcrest looks different during the day. Sorey’s not sure if it’s a good sort of difference, but it’s definitely different.

There’s a lot of colorful band posters plastered all over the walls, along with a few photos of Eizen posing with various niche musicians. Sorey recognizes a ska band called  _Mighty Shrimp_  – they play at Spiritcrest frequently, always insisting that ska isn’t dead. Seriously, their shows are mostly just the lead singer ranting about how it’s the best genre ever, and how a comeback is imminent.

He also recognizes a heavy metal band called  _Hellionquin_. They’re known for using an incredibly dysfunctional fog machine during their shows. The bar had to be evacuated the last time they played; the whole place was covered in a thick, purple mist.

Sorey isn’t sure how that happened.

Regardless, Dezel is allegedly in a complex feud with their bassist, a girl named Symonne who doesn’t look like she’s old enough to be in a band.

Again, Sorey isn’t sure how that happened.

He directs his attention away from the pictures and back at his bandmates.

“No. We’re not doing a cover of  _Wonderwall_ ,” Dezel says, pushing his shades up his nose bridge.

“Chicks  _love_ that song, Dez,” Zaveid says. “It’s profound. It’s  _deep_.”

“I’m choosing to ignore you.” Dezel gets back to tuning his bass guitar.

“Don’t be like that!” Zaveid whines. “Sorey, you know that song, right?”

“Yeah!” Sorey nods. He shifts his guitar case up a little – he has it strapped onto his back and one of the straps is fraying. “Mikleo banned me from playing it in public, though.”

Dezel makes a triumphant little noise and Zaveid groans.

“Man, you’re so whipped,” he says. “You’re not secretly married to that guy, right?”

Sorey tilts his head. “Hm?”

“Nothing.” Zaveid reaches up and takes his drumsticks out of his hair, his sloppy bun immediately coming loose. “Okay, what else is in our vast repertoire of cover material?”

“You three haven’t decided on a set list yet?” A sardonic voice calls out. “Way to take ineptitude to a new level.”

Sorey turns around to face the entrance of Spiritcrest, grinning. “Edna!”

She has a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other.

“Shouldn’t you be in school, kiddo?” Zaveid asks, walking up to her and reaching out to mess up her hair. Edna brandishes her pen at him, glaring.

“Not today, dumbass,” she says, poking at him with the pen.

“Ow!” Zaveid recoils from the pen’s touch. “Hey! Language!”

“Stop being so noisy.” Edna swiftly steps around him, then walks over to the bar. It’s empty right now, since Spiritcrest is technically closed. She takes a seat on a stool, swiveling it so that she can face them. “I’m taking notes for this month’s review.”

“Nice!” Sorey flashes her a thumbs-up. “We’re in your hands, then!”

Edna smirks, but says nothing.

“Buttering her up, huh, Sorey?” Rose emerges from backstage, waving. Lailah is with her – her bright red guitar, covered in stickers, is already strapped on.

“Oh, no, I was just –”

“You guys can do  _butter_ than that!” Lailah interjects, and everyone except Sorey groans.

“Please stop,” Dezel says, and Lailah pouts.

“I thought that one was pretty good,” she says.

“I liked it,” Sorey says, and Lailah beams.

“Crappy puns aside…!” Rose sprints across the stage, making a running leap right off it. “Sorey Shepherd!” She yells Sorey’s name so loudly, it echoes throughout the entire bar. Her landing is  _flawless_. “Did you ask Mikleo to come tonight?!”

“He did,” Zaveid answers before Sorey can confirm. “Little Sorey has game now.” He gives Sorey’s back a few solid slaps.

Rose cheers and Lailah claps eagerly.

“Did he put up a fight?” Rose scampers over to Sorey, looking positively devious. “C’mon, I want the details!”

“Well –”

“Listen, Sorey,” Lailah says, very seriously, as she daintily steps off the stage. “It’s okay to be honest with us. Sometimes using what you know against people can be very, very helpful, in the grand scheme of things!”

“You still support the use of blackmail?” Zaveid smirks. “That’s good.  _Very_ good.”

“Shut up, Zaveid,” Lailah says, very pleasantly.

“I didn’t blackmail him,” Sorey clarifies. “I just asked him. He said yes.”

“What? Seriously?” Rose purses her lips. “Was there any begging? Kneeling? Groveling?”

“Nope,” Sorey replies.

“None  _at all_?”

Sorey shrugs. “I guess he was just waiting for an invitation.”

“Not that I care,” Edna says, looking up from her notebook, “but what are you even talking about?”

“Sorey’s chasing after some prissy guy,” Zaveid states. “In the sexy way.”

“The young man’s name is Mikleo and he’s a pianist,” Lailah continues, and Sorey’s a little taken aback by how involved his friends are, all of a sudden. Twenty-four hours ago they didn’t even know that Sorey had those weird feelings. Now they’re practically a little fanclub, and Sorey thinks they somehow know more than  _he_  knows.

“We’re shoving the two of ‘em together and this is the first step.” Rose holds up one finger, for emphasis. “Phase  _Get-Mikleo-Involved-In-This-Scene_.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Edna deadpans, and, hilariously enough, Sorey’s not sure if he disagrees.

“No, it’s brilliant, because –”

“We know, Zaveid,” Dezel grumbles. “It’ll make Sorey look like a rebel.”

“Y’know, maybe we should throw some leather on him, too,” Zaveid says.

Sorey can’t think of anything more uncomfortable than leather pants, so he just kind of grimaces. If it’d make Mikleo happy, then, okay, but Mikleo never once mentioned liking leather…

“So there’s just going to be some lovesick nerd here tonight?” Edna squints. “He’ll get eaten.”

“He won’t!” Rose declares. “Everything will be okay! And, more importantly, Mikleo will bring Alisha!”

 _Alisha_?  _Wait_ …

“Shoot!” Sorey slaps his forehead. “I forgot to tell him to bring Alisha.”

Rose stares at him.

The entire group goes silent.

“Sorey.” Rose smiles, and her tone is very calm. Serene, even. “Can you please text your friend and get him to bring Alisha?”

“Alisha?” Edna asks.

“Rose is doing some pursuing of her own,” Lailah informs her. “Oh, to be young!”

“ _Another_ lovesick nerd…” Edna looks back down to her notebook. “Great.”

“Hey, hey!” Rose points her finger at Lailah accusatorily. “I admire Alisha as a musician, full stop.”

“If you’re not going for her, then I will,” Zaveid states, and in a fluid, almost reflexive motion, Rose pulls a drumstick out of her pocket and launches it right at his face.

“Ow! Fuck!” Zaveid cradles his nose. “Why are you ladies so  _violent_?!”

“I’ll also be protecting her from creeps like Zaveid over here,” Rose states, walking over to him so that she can pick up her drumstick.

“What’s creepy about that?!” Zaveid hollers.

Everyone starts admonishing Zaveid, so Sorey takes the opportunity to send Mikleo a text, as per Rose’s request.  
  
  


**Sorey**  [10:46 a.m.]:  
Hey Mikleo!!! \\( ^ ^ )  
Rose said that you should bring Alisha with you tonight.  
Let me know if you can!   
Hope you’re having a good day!  
P.S. Don’t forget the books!!!!  
  
  


Edna makes a spookily-timed disgusted sound and gets right back to scribbling in her notebook. Sorey catches a glimpse of the page she’s writing on. It’s covered in doodles of little cat-like characters with large, round eyes.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Dezel announces over everyone’s chattering. “No more procrastinating. We need to practice.”

“That’s very true!” Lailah grabs onto her guitar. “If we’re horrible, Mikleo and Alisha might never come back!”

And, just like that, the strange knot in Sorey’s throat returns.

Mikleo isn’t that shallow, Sorey knows that. Alisha doesn’t seem like the judgmental type, either.

But…

“You’re always horrible,” Edna drawls.

“Thanks, Edna,” Zaveid says. “Okay, let’s get down to it, then.”

“We call first dibs on the stage!” Rose hollers.

“Half of your band isn’t here,” Dezel points out.

“Eh, they’re temporary members. Floaters. Mercenaries.” Rose inspects the drumstick that she threw at Zaveid. “They’ll be here soon enough. Lailah and I are the stage presence, anyway!” She puts an arm around Lailah’s shoulders.

“Do you boys have a problem with that?” Lailah asks, so sweetly that it’s a little scary.

“Nah, go ahead.” Zaveid eyes Rose’s drumstick warily. “We’re trying to work out some, uh, specifics.”

“Still working on a set list, huh?” Rose laughs.

Zaveid smiles wide. “We’re just so good, y’know?! Makes it hard to choose.” He winks at her and she shakes her head.

“Whatever, Mr. No-Songs,” Rose sings, turning on her heel.

“I’ve been thinking about topics for emceeing,” Lailah tells her as they head back to the stage. “My armadillo impression has been very good, lately.”

“Oh, boy,” Zaveid mutters under his breath, but Sorey’s actually looking forward to hearing Lailah’s impression. He’s not sure how armadillos sound, to begin with, so it seems like a good learning opportunity.

Dezel stands up, bass in hand. “Let’s head backstage for now.”

“Gotcha!” Sorey grabs onto the straps of his guitar case. “I gotta re-string my guitar.”

“Okay, then we’ll work all our shit out while you do that,” Zaveid says. “You done tuning, Dez?”

Dezel shrugs. “Mostly.”

“Alrighty!” Zaveid practically runs backstage, not bothering to wait for the rest of his band. “ _Zaveid and the Boys_ are going to blow this fuckin’ show out of the water!”

Sorey and Dezel trail behind him, side-by-side.

“We  _need_ to do something about that name,” Dezel says, and Sorey just laughs.

~

Sorey stares down at the crumpled piece of lined paper in his hand.

Two song names are listed in Zaveid’s sharp, messy handwriting. One’s a cover – a classic called  _There Is a Light That Never Goes Out_ by an alternative rock band that Sorey listens to, on repeat, way too often. The other is an original song called  _Rudeness Whip_. It’s one of their less terrible ones.

Sorey doesn’t mean to brag or anything, but some people even clapped the last time they played it.

There’s also some notes here and there – topics for emceeing, mostly. It’s the usual “official set list” memo that’s far from professional but still a staple of their shows. They don’t ever need it (Sorey’s perpetually losing it, Dezel can’t read it without a narrator, and Zaveid somehow ends up destroying it every time it’s in his hands), but it’d feel weird without it.

“Are you ready, Sorey?” Lailah is sitting next to him.

Sorey looks up from the crumpled paper. “Yeah! I’m good!”

Lailah smiles patiently at him and Sorey knows that, at that exact moment, she’s analyzing every single thing about his current existence.

He smiles and tries to sit up a bit straighter, but he knows it’s to no avail.

Lailah can  _read_  people. It just comes naturally to her.

“You know,” Lailah says, “I’ve never seen you nervous before a show.”

She definitely knows that Sorey’s hands are sweating a tiny bit more than usual and that he fussed with his hair a lot more than he usually does.

She knows that his stomach is churning and that, yes, he  _did_ take that one shot of  _something_ that Zaveid offered him, despite how gross it tasted and how it made his eyes water and she also knows all about the regret that followed afterwards. (He felt a little buzzed for about fifteen minutes – what a time to learn that he has quite the formidable alcohol tolerance.)

She knows that Zaveid  _almost_ got him to wear the worst leather pants imaginable.  _Almost_. (He didn’t succeed, and Sorey’s very glad that he didn’t.)

She knows it all, because even if she’s not around when events unfold, Lailah just has her ways.

“Is it that obvious?” Sorey asks, with a shaky little laugh.

“Mhm, the hair gave it away,” Lailah says. “It’ll be okay. Mikleo will have a wonderful time.”

“He hasn’t texted me yet, I don’t know if he’ll come,” Sorey says. He barely ever gets anxious – now, he feels like he’s experiencing a years’ worth of anxiety in the span of an afternoon.

“He’ll be in the crowd,” Lailah says. “Trust me!”

Sorey nods, but he’s not sure if he’s being convincing at all.

“Is this because of what Edna was saying?” Lailah asks. “That he’d get eaten?”

“No. Well.” Sorey groans. “Not really? I just… I don’t know if he’ll fit in. What if a fight breaks out or something?”

Physical confrontations don’t happen often at Spiritcrest, but, when they do, they’re over the most inane things.

Symonne once tripped Dezel when he took a bowl of peanuts away from her.

Eizen had to knock Zaveid out when he got a little bit too rowdy (he picked Edna up and may or may not have tried to throw her off-stage). There were no hard feelings over that, of course – the two are best friends, but a fight’s a fight.

“If a fight breaks out, Mikleo will be fine because he can fight back,” Lailah says. “But a fight won’t break out, because Spiritcrest is perfectly safe and nothing ever happens!”

“What about that time when you threw that pitcher of beer at that one guy’s face?” Sorey asks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lailah says, smiling.

“I think his name was Michael?” Zaveid told him the story a while back. Apparently, it happened years ago.

“Sorey, do you think it’ll snow later?” Lailah swipes her iPhone on. “I’ve been monitoring the weather. It stopped snowing earlier this morning, but it might start up again tonight.”

Of course she changed the subject – she always does when it comes to that guy. Sorey chuckles. “I don’t think it’ll snow.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! Last night was bad enough. I’m terrible with the cold. I’m already  _so_ ready for summer.” Lailah puts her phone back in her purse – it’s white and decorated with little studs. She stands up and stretches. “Anyway, I have to go put on my makeup, but don’t worry, Sorey. Mikleo will love our performance.”

“I hope so.” Sorey looks down at the set list again. There’s a doodle of a cartoonish Zaveid doing a thumbs-up at him and it’s mostly a scribbly mess but it’s still very reassuring. He stuffs the set list in his pocket.

“You’ll play very well and sweep him right off his feet.” Lailah giggles as she practically skips off – her heeled boots aren’t a hindrance to said skipping.

Sorey sighs a little, his chest fluttering at the very concept of  _sweeping Mikleo off his feet_.

“Hey, Sorey?”

Sorey looks up – Lailah is standing in the doorway leading to the makeup room.

“Lunarre just bit Mason, okay?” She smiles. “He didn’t eat him. Mikleo will be fine.”

Sorey bursts into laughter –  _way to take Edna way too literally, Lailah_. Still, it’s hilarious, and Lailah has a very smug look on her face when she turns around and heads into the room.

Still laughing, Sorey glances at his guitar – it’s faded orange and worn-down, but the strings are shiny and new.

He grabs it and starts doing some more warm-up chords when his phone lets out a little chime. He picks his phone up, off the coffee table, and checks his texts.   
  
  
  
**Mikleo**  [9:03 p.m.]:  
Hey, I’m here w/ Alisha. Tell Rose before she kills me or something.  
(Before you ask: I did get all of the books you asked for. You better share!)   
Good luck with your performance, make sure Z doesn’t break anything.  
  
  


_He’s here_. Sorey grins – of course he’s here. Of course he brought Alisha. His hands are still a bit shaky, but these aren’t the bad kind of nerves.

  
  
**Sorey**  [9:03 p.m.]:  
Great! I’ll see you after the show  
Don’t get in any trouble. (-__^)

 **Mikleo**  [9:04 p.m.]:  
Right, like you’re one to talk, Mr. Lead Guitarist.  
  
  


“Texting your guy?” Zaveid plops down next to Sorey, and Sorey jumps slightly. “Did he make it?”

Sorey nods. “He’s here. He brought Alisha, too.”

Zaveid shivers dramatically. “Shit, I need to make sure I don’t make direct eye contact with that chick. Rose’ll roast me on-stage if I do.”

“That might make the show more fun,” Sorey points out, and Zaveid groans.

“Did I just hear you say Alisha’s name?” Rose walks over to them, Dezel at her side. Her eyes are wide. “Is she here?”

“Yep, in the crowd,” Sorey replies. “She’s with Mikleo.”

_In Spiritcrest._

“Excellent.” Rose cracks her knuckles. “Listen, guys. This has to be the best show ever, got it?”

“In the name of your sex life, as well as Sorey’s sex life, and, potentially, my own sex life, somehow…” Zaveid puts his hand against his chest. “I pledge to make this the best show ever.”

“Why am I in a band with this guy?” Dezel asks, and Rose shrugs.

“Oh, sorry, Dez!” Zaveid grins. “We’ll play in the name of your sex life, too.”

“Sex life?” Sorey asks.

“Ignore him, Sorey,” Dezel says. “And, you – Zaveid. Shut up.”

“Aw, why’ve you gotta be so cold to the guy who taught you everything you know?” Zaveid asks, putting his feet on the coffee table. “Are you forgetting who helped you learn how to play?” He does some hand motions, as if he’s playing an invisible bass.

Sorey always forgets that Zaveid learnt the bass first – he swapped over to the drums because, apparently, “the drummer gets all the ladies.” Sorey has yet to see any of these alleged  _ladies_ , but Zaveid seems to like drumming, and that’s what matters.

“This is one of the cases where the student surpassed the teacher,” Rose states.

“Hey!” Zaveid splutters.

“It’s time for warmups,” Dezel says. “Move it.”

Zaveid pouts as he gets his feet off the table. “Karma’s gonna get you,” he tells Dezel as he stands up. “You  _and_ your hat.”

Dezel reflexively grabs onto his hat, frowning. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing at all,” Zaveid says, walking over to him.

“What’s wrong with my hat?!” Dezel’s getting increasingly annoyed, and Sorey  _would_ be worried but this tends to happen before shows – all the nervous energy and adrenaline.

“Psh, and Zaveid teases  _you_  about being married to Mikleo,” Rose says, rolling her eyes.

“What was that?!” Dezel snarls, while Zaveid makes a little noise that’s a unique mix of sheepish and indignant.

“Absolutely nothing,” Rose says. “Do your drumming exercises, Zaveid. Come on, Dez. I’ll help with getting your bass set up.”

Dezel’s frowning but he obliges. He walks off with Rose to a side room. Though, granted, it’s more like a side-closet. Eizen said something about budget cuts. Anyway, Sorey assumes his bass is there.

Instead of doing his drumming exercises, Zaveid throws himself back down on the couch next to Sorey. He puts his feet back on the coffee table, too.

“Don’t worry, man,” he says, ruffling Sorey’s hair. “We’ve got your back.”

And, despite the fact that he just messed up what Sorey spent  _hours_ fixing in front of a mirror… Sorey believes him.

~

Sorey always forgets how much he loves performing. It all comes flooding back to him once he’s on-stage.

The spotlight’s shining on them and he can’t see anything – nothing except pure, white light. His skin feels hot, he’s already sweating. He wants to look for Mikleo but that  _light_ , it’s all there is, out there.

The only way he’ll reach Mikleo is through the music.

Somehow, he always has music.

Dezel strums a few random notes on his bass. Zaveid hits his drumsticks together and Sorey can hear him laughing – he’s saying something, talking into the microphone positioned in front of his drum set.

The guitar in Sorey’s hands is strapped across his chest and it feels light – he plugs it into the amp and cranks the volume up, grinning.

“ – Enough of that shit, y’all aren’t here to hear my beautiful voice,” Zaveid says. “That’s why I don’t do any singing; consider yourselves blessed.” He laughs and some members of the crowd laugh, too – disembodied laughter in the light. Sorey always marvels over how charismatic Zaveid gets on-stage, even though he doesn’t really pay attention to him, most of the time.

Zaveid clears his throat, then hollers: “We are  _Dezel and the Boys_!”

Dezel lets out a surprised growl and Sorey bursts out laughing; undaunted, Zaveid does the count-off. Sorey moves forward, mouth close to his own mic, almost touching it – waiting for those few seconds to pass, waiting for his cue.

He hears it, and he starts up the main riff for  _There Is a Light That Never Goes Out_.

~

After the show, Sorey still feels like he can do  _anything_. He wants to perform again, immediately,  _right now_. Instead, he’s sitting in a booth with everyone.

Everyone, including Mikleo.  

They ordered a celebratory round of drinks (supposedly on the house) and are sharing an obscenely large platter of nachos. Sorey thinks they taste like plastic, but that doesn’t stop him from dousing them in salsa and stuffing his face with them.

“I don’t know how he does it.” Dezel isn’t stuffing his face. No, he’s sitting there in what appears to be slight shock. “I don’t.”

“I’ll tell ya right now, Dez,” Zaveid replies from beside him, reaching out and grabbing Dezel’s hat. “I hit that snare with _everything_ I got.”

“That’s two pairs in two days,” Dezel says, not even bothering to put up a fight for his hat. “ _Two_.”

“I just wanna point out that I didn’t break mine,” Rose says, “ _and_ I still managed to be mind-numbingly awesome. Right, Alisha?”

Alisha visibly startles once Rose mentions her. “U-Um, yes. You were great.” She seems flustered, and Sorey feels a little bad for her. She’s wearing a very nice pink dress, and her hair is pulled into a side-ponytail, held in place with a white ribbon. 

She definitely sticks out, but in a nice way.

“That’s subjective and you know it,” Zaveid says, putting Dezel’s hat on. “Fuck, I’m cold.”

“You threw your shirt into the crowd when your drumsticks snapped,” Mikleo reminds him. “You were  _screaming_.”

“Sue me, Mikky Boy, I got emotional!” Zaveid slaps his bare, tattooed chest. “That’s what being a rock star’s all about. An  _adoring fan_ now has that shirt. I’m very generous.”

Mikleo eyes him disdainfully and Sorey cracks up.

Mikleo’s wearing a form-fitting blue shirt and black, tight jeans that Sorey’s never seen before. His hair isn’t brushed as neatly as usual, and, when Sorey realizes that it’s probably Mikleo’s attempt at fitting in, he can’t help but grin.

“That was the best opening show we’ve ever done,” Sorey says. “Even though half of  _Rudeness Whip_ had no drumming.”

“It added to the ambiance,” Zaveid insists.

“That aside, the cover you did was incredible,” Mikleo says quietly. “I recognized that song.  _There Is a Light That Never Goes Out_.”

Sorey nods. “I play it a lot back home.”

“You did a good job,” Mikleo says, and Sorey gets yet another burst of energy. He wants to jog around Spiritcrest at a high speed. That’d be a bad idea, all things considered – but he still wants to.

“It was definitely a success!” Lailah smiles wide. She keeps rapidly looking between Sorey and Mikleo, as well as Rose and Alisha. “What did you think, Mikleo and Alisha?! You’re the newbies, after all!”

“I loved it,” Alisha says, and her tone is very serious. “I’ve never heard music like that. I really, really loved it.” There’s a certain fire in her eyes that takes Sorey by surprise.

“So, I can count on seeing you here more often, yeah?” Rose grins at her.

“ _Absolutely_ ,” Alisha says, with determination.

“Good.” Rose leans back in her seat. “Spiritcrest can use more pretty girls.”

Alisha blushes at that, and Zaveid guffaws, yelling out an “amen.” Dezel covers his face with his hands. Sorey never paid attention to the girls at Spiritcrest, but he thinks they look fine. Rose is probably just trying to flatter Alisha.

“Anyway, what about you, Mikleo?” Lailah leans forward, against the table. “How’d you like it?”

Sorey grabs a fistful of nachos.

“It was great,” Mikleo says. “You guys have so much energy. I never knew you could play like that, Sorey.”

“I try,” Sorey says, his mouth full of nachos.

“And succeed,” Mikleo adds, smirking. “Though I’m not sure about what was going on during  _Rudeness Whip_.”

“It’s an original,” Zaveid says, proudly.

“We’re still finding our sound,” Dezel adds, glumly.

“Ah.” Mikleo nods. “It was very, uh, busy.”

“It’s fun to play!” Sorey exclaims. “I especially like the guitar solo.”

“No shit, Lead Guitarist,” Rose says, and everyone laughs.

“No, no! I don’t mean it like that!” Sorey says, but he’s laughing, too. “It’s just a lot of fun.”

“ _The Lady in the Lake’s_  song,  _Flaming Bonds_!” Alisha clenches her fists. “That was fun, too. Lailah, your technique is so admirable! And so was your armadillo impression!”

“I never knew what an armadillo sounded like until tonight,” Mikleo adds.

“Same here!” Sorey exclaims. He’s sure that, in the near future, he’s going to end up on the Internet with Mikleo, watching various armadillo videos because of Lailah.

He has no problems with that, though. None at all. In fact, armadillos are cute, so he’s looking forward to it.

Lailah giggles. “Thanks, guys!”

“When are you all playing again?” Alisha asks. “I’ll come see both of your bands, I promise.”

“We’re not exactly popular enough to –”

“Spiritcrest is pretty loose with scheduling,” Rose interrupts Dezel. “Keeping the artistic spirit free and all. Deadlines just kill the vibe, y’know?”

Alisha nods enthusiastically. “Oh. Oh! That makes so much sense. I’m sorry, I’ve never been to this sort of place before.”

“It’s all good!” Rose beams and Dezel shakes his head slowly.

“Congratulations on your first show that wasn’t complete crap.” Edna suddenly appears beside the booth. Her notebook is in one hand and a white cloth with a bunch of scribbles on it in the other. She’s wearing a simple yellow dress and clunky boots.

“Thanks!” Sorey chirps, since that’s high praise, coming from Edna.

Mikleo groans. “Sorey, seriously?”

“Hey, shut it, Meebo,” Edna says.

“ _Meebo_?” Mikleo repeats, and Sorey has to bite his lip to keep his laughter back.

“Yes,” Edna says, nodding. “ _Meebo_. You’re lucky that these guys vouched for you. I don’t let just  _anyone_ into Spiritcrest.”

Mikleo blinks a few times. He then looks away from Edna and back towards the group. “Who is she? Is she old enough to be in here?”

Edna huffs and throws the white cloth onto him. He lets out a startled yelp and Sorey pulls it off him, resting it on the table.

“Don’t worry, that’s just Edna,” Sorey says.

“Her brother owns this place,” Dezel adds.

“Oh.” Mikleo gives Edna a skeptical look. She just smirks.

“I’m busy tonight,” she says. “But I had to return that.” She points at the white cloth.

“What is it?” Alisha asks.

“It’s Zaveid’s,” Edna says. She looks up at him. “Some girl returned your shirt. She said you threw it on her during your not-crappy, albeit sub-par, show.”

“What?!” Zaveid grabs the cloth which is, apparently, his shirt. “She returned it?! Wait, what’s all this shit on it?!”

Edna shrugs. “Not my problem. I have an article to write.” She turns on her heel and speed-walks away, back into the crowd.

Zaveid unfolds his white shirt – the one that he threw into the crowd around an hour or two ago.

“I AM A BUTTFACE” is scrawled across it in black marker. “P.S. MY TATTOOS ARE ALL FAKE. EVERY SINGLE ONE. AND EDNA IS SUPERIOR TO ME.”

“What the fuck?! Edna!” Zaveid calls out after her. “My tattoos are  _not_ fake! What the hell?!

“Relax,” Dezel says.

Zaveid does not relax. “Getting this ink done  _hurt_!”

Sorey glances over to Mikleo.

He’s holding a beer bottle and he’s a little red in the face and he’s  _smiling_.

He’s sitting with Sorey’s band – and with  _the Lady in the Lake_ , too. He brought Alisha with him, and he met Edna.

He watched Sorey play at a live rock venue… Regardless of how shabby said venue is. He enjoyed himself, and he’s right by Sorey’s side, laughing at the groups’ antics.

Something in the universe just clicked into place – that’s how Sorey feels.

Needless to say, it’s a pretty good feeling.

~

Spiritcrest closes at 3:30am. That’s also the time that Sorey and his friends walk out of its doors and into the early-morning winter air.

Alisha’s arm is wrapped around Rose’s shoulders, and she’s laughing very hard about something. Dezel is next to them, cane in one hand and bass case in the other. He also managed to get his hat back from Zaveid.

“Okay, guys,” Rose says. “Dezel and I are going to get Princess Drunky home, now.”

“ _Princess Drunky_!” Alisha laughs even harder. She laughs so hard that she snorts, and Rose is grinning from ear-to-ear.

“So, you got her address and number on your own, then?” Mikleo smirks and folds his arms.

“Yes, in a typical  _Rose_ fashion,” Rose says, flashing a little peace sign. “Eye on the prize, et cetera.  _Someone_ should take a page from my book.” She gives Sorey a pointed look – it lasts for a second and then it’s gone, before Mikleo can catch on to it.

Sorey doesn’t want to think about it, though. He’ll make romantic progress with Mikleo, one way or another. They already live together, so it’s not like he needs to find out his address.

“Lailah!” Meanwhile, Zaveid is inebriated and upset. “Take me!”

Lailah purses her lips. “No.”

“I can’t walk anymore. I’m going to pass out in the middle of the road,” Zaveid slurs. He’s wearing the shirt that Edna vandalized, and Sorey feels a little bit sorry for him. “I swear, I’ll pass out in the middle of the road if you don’t take me with you.”

“Go ahead! By all means,” Lailah says, buttoning up her denim jacket. Her hair is no longer in its usual high ponytail – it’s out, framing her like a curtain. “I’m heading out, everyone. It was lovely to meet you two, Alisha and Mikleo!”

“Yeah, thanks for having us,” Mikleo says, smiling a little shyly, while Alisha nods rapidly and says something about Lailah’s  _powerful voice_.

Lailah waves and she sets off towards the parking lot, towards her car – a bright red Beetle. Her guitar case is on her back, decorated with stickers and little illustrations.

Zaveid pouts. “Sorey! Drive me back to your place.”

“Sorry, Mikleo and I are walking back,” Sorey says. “Why don’t you go back to your condo?”

“Because!” Zaveid points at him accusatorily. “…I can’t drive back.”

 _That’s true_ , Sorey thinks. He drank a  _lot_. Eventually he gave up on the beers and started ordering these fruity cocktails with names that Sorey could never pronounce.

Everyone else stopped drinking hours ago – apparently, Alisha doesn’t have very high tolerance.

“You want a ride home, too?” Rose asks.

“No.” Zaveid shakes his head.

“What the hell, dude?” Rose glares at him. “Make up your mind!”

“I don’t wanna be alone!” Zaveid whines. He sits down on the pavement.

“For fuck’s sake,” Dezel says. “Are you twelve?”

“A twelve outta ten,” Zaveid mumbles.

“Okay, don’t freeze to death,” Dezel says, clearly unaffected.

“Dez, let me crash on your floor.  _Please_.” Zaveid puts his hands together as if he’s praying. “Please!”

“Only if you kneel!” Rose demands, and that makes Alisha crack up all over again.

Naturally, Zaveid  _does_ kneel, and Dezel’s as mortified as Rose is overjoyed. Sorey laughs so hard that he drops his guitar case (Mikleo catches it, potentially saving several of Sorey’s paychecks).

“I’d offer you guys a ride, but my car’s officially full,” Rose says, as Dezel and Zaveid walk ahead. Alisha is totally slumped against her. She’s  _very_ zoned out, yet somehow comfortable against Rose’s leather jacket.

It’s hard for Sorey to believe that they just,  _formally_ , met tonight. Rose does have a way of hitting it off with people, though.

“It’s okay, we’re used to walking around,” Mikleo says, giving Sorey his guitar case back. “Thanks again, Rose. For, uh… The invitation, and… Everything.”

Sorey feels like there’s more to what Mikleo’s saying, but he’s not exactly sure what.

Rose smiles and nods. Sorey isn’t sure that she knows what he’s talking about, either, but Rose is as intuitive as she’s charismatic. “Anytime, Meebo.”

Mikleo makes a face upon hearing his new nickname. It snaps Alisha out of her little zoned-out trance, and she bursts into infectious laughter once again.

“Get her home safe,” Mikleo says. “Her family can be kind of strict. Sorry if they freak out on you.”

“Eh, if they do, I’ll survive. It was worth it,” Rose says. “See you guys later!”

“Bye, Rose!” Sorey says. “And you, too, Alisha!”

Alisha waves a bit sloppily, muttering something that Sorey doesn’t quite understand. Rose directs her towards the parking lot and the two walk off together. Dezel and Zaveid are already waiting next to Rose’s minivan. Zaveid waves, and Mikleo and Sorey wave back.

“Your friends are great,” Mikleo says, once they’re out of earshot. “Strange, but great.”

Sorey smiles. “Now they’re your friends, too, you know!”

“Maybe,” Mikleo says. He’s always a bit hesitant when it comes to trusting new people. Sorey’s fine with that, though. It’s just how Mikleo is. “Anyway, maybe this is just the novelty talking, but you guys seriously don’t suck as much as you claim to.”

“That was one of our better shows,” Sorey says. They start walking away from Spiritcrest, along the pavement and in the direction of their apartment complex. “I do kinda wish we didn’t just open for  _the Lady in the Lake_ , though.” He was in the mood for a full show, though Rose and Lailah’s band was incredible.

“Right, because lacking a drummer after your first song would’ve been just peachy,” Mikleo teases.

“Hey!” Sorey laughs. “Zaveid packs extra sticks, sometimes.”

“Really? That’s surprisingly responsible.” Mikleo brushes his hair out of his eyes and it makes Sorey’s stomach do flips.

“Yeah. I guess he just forgot them tonight.”

“Or those were his spares,” Mikleo says. “Since he allegedly broke a pair last night, too.”

Sorey chuckles. “He’s a free-spirited guy.”

“Evidently,” Mikleo murmurs.

A silence settles between them, as they make their way back home. It’s comfortable but tinged with a weight of significance, as if Mikleo wants to tell Sorey something but is struggling to find the right words.

Sorey can relate to that, but he’s certain that his reasons are different.

“Listen, Sorey.” Mikleo breaks the silence.

“Yeah?”

Mikleo sighs softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? For what?” Sorey’s not sure what he means, what Mikleo could possibly apologize for.

“I didn’t go to your shows before. That was crappy of me.” Mikleo looks over to Sorey. “So… I’m sorry.”

“It’s totally fine, we only played three before this one,” Sorey says. “And I’m  _really_  glad that you came to this one! We’re still finding our sound, so you can only imagine how the last three went.”

“That’s not the point,” Mikleo says. “You always came to my performances, even though that side of Pendrago is so…” He rolls his eyes. “… _Posh_ , sometimes. I should’ve done the same for you.”

“It’s okay,” Sorey says, because it is. “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Going to Spiritcrest isn’t exactly the same as going to a concert hall. I don’t blame you for not wanting to come.”

Mikleo shakes his head. “That’s not it. I did want to.”

Sorey gives Mikleo a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

Mikleo sighs again, though it’s exasperated, this time. “I don’t know! You were just so  _happy_ to finally be in a band, and you made so many new friends… And so quickly, too. I didn’t want to just invade that.”

He stops walking and Sorey stops, reflexively, right beside him.

“The whole  _point_ of moving here, out of Elysia, was so that we’d grow up,” Mikleo says. “Musically and otherwise. You always wanted to see more things. You didn’t want to stay up in that small town forever.”

“You felt the same way, too,” Sorey points out.

“Yeah. Out of stubbornness, maybe.” Mikleo kicks at the pavement. “I never wanted to leave your side, Sorey. But… I did think that it’d be better if you just did your own thing.”

Sorey’s mouth goes dry.

“I don’t know, it sounds wrong, talking about it,” Mikleo says, quickly, when he’s met with silence. “But Gramps felt that way back home, too. You’re such a bright person, Sorey, you’re  _destined_ for great things and you don’t deserve to be held down by anything or anyone. I wasn’t going to come with you to Pendrago but I changed my mind at the very last minute. I told myself I’d just let you go, but I kept falling short. I just can’t do it.”

He folds his arms and he seems so  _small_ , but Sorey’s still too caught up in what he’s saying to process anything else.

“I’m sorry,” Mikleo says. “This is stupid, I know. I thought if I put some distance between us, at least, you’d start to move on and be the person you deserve to be –”

“But I don’t want to move on,” Sorey says, quickly. “I never wanted that.”

Mikleo bites his lip and somehow, everything makes sense to Sorey.  _Somehow_.

It’s all wrong and a huge misunderstanding, but it makes sense.

“Wow, Mikleo, I’m…” Sorey runs a hand through his hair. “Man, you’re apologizing to me, but I should probably apologize to  _you_. I can’t believe you kept that inside for so long. I should’ve talked to you about it. I’m really sorry.”

All this time, Sorey thought Mikleo was just not interested in Spiritcrest, or in that whole  _band_ scene. He thought Mikleo was focusing on his own music, on his own goals. It never once occurred to him that Mikleo was trying to make room for Sorey to accomplish his own dreams.

That’s such a  _classic_ Mikleo thing to do. Sorey’s ashamed that he didn’t pick up on it sooner.

Mikleo scowls. “Sorey, there’s absolutely nothing for you to apologize for. I was the one who made unfair assumptions.”

“No, I just,” Sorey’s mind is racing. “I just… I never felt that way. I always wanted to be with you. Always. And I do, now, too! Really. I wanted to leave Elysia, yeah, but I don’t  _want_  to become someone who doesn’t need you.”

That would just be wrong.

“I don’t think we need to be apart for us to grow,” Sorey admits. “Do you?”

“Not anymore,” Mikleo replies, quietly. “I don’t want to live a separate life from you. Not at all. I tried to and it sucks.” He pauses. “…Even when I tried, you insisted that we live together. Then you applied to the same job as me.  _Then_ you came to all of my recitals…”

“You didn’t stop me, not once,” Sorey points out, and he’s smiling, somehow. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t!” Mikleo exclaims. “I felt so bad but you were always so  _happy_. I don’t…” He laughs, shakily. “I don’t know. I tried to give you your own space, but I can’t do it, Sorey. Especially after we met up with Rose. She was so welcoming. Then everyone else was, too.”

 “You’ll hang out with all of us from now on,” Sorey says. “Right?”

Mikleo smiles, finally. “If you’re okay with it, I’d like that a lot.”

They start walking together again, and that heaviness from before is gone.

“Thanks for caring so much about me, Mikleo,” Sorey says, and he means it. “You think about so much stuff. Man, I feel so clueless.”

“You  _are_ clueless,” Mikleo says, a playful edge to his voice. He looks up at Sorey and Sorey notices the way his eyelashes curl; they’re so long, the moonlight catches in them.

“Not about everything,” Sorey replies. He means it as a joke but it comes out surprisingly serious.

 Mikleo blinks and Sorey can feel his face heating up,  _whoops_ , now is  _definitely_ not the time –

“A-Anyway, I’m glad we cleared all of that stuff up!” He immediately stifles the thoughts that are popping up in his head. He wracks his brain, needing to change the subject, desperately. “Hey, did you know that scholars still argue about where the oldest guitars are from?”

“I did,” Mikleo replies, coolly. “You’ve ranted to me about this before, Sorey.”

“Yeah. It’s just interesting how some people associate ancient harps with guitars.” Sorey tries to recall all of those articles he read. “I mean, harps have strings and guitars do, too, but some scholars think that linking the two is way too far-fetched. I definitely agree with that. Then there was that whole lute controversy – namely, whether or not lutes influenced the development of what we understand as the modern guitar.”

“Right,” Mikleo says.

“Some scholars link it to ancient Egypt and Persia,” Sorey continues, “rather than attributing it to the lute, which came way later in the 15th century.”

“Yes. I know about lutes.”

“Some scholars totally disregard the lute and connect it more to the bass.”

“…Sorey.”

“There’s so much literature out there. I’m not sure where I stand, personally, since there’s so many different kinds of –”

“Sorey!” Mikleo grabs his shoulders from behind, and Sorey jumps.

“Y-Yeah?!” He turns around to face Mikleo, who lets go of his shoulders.

“I know how passionate you are about guitar history – moreso than the average guitarist – but I need you to tell me what’s on your mind,” Mikleo says. “ _Properly_.” There’s a certain edge to his voice; Sorey knows that Mikleo has the same  _sixth sense_  that Sorey has for Mikleo. No wonder his attempt to change the subject ended in a total failure.

“I think we covered everything!” Sorey’s feeling  _way_ too many things all at once, and, on top of everything, now he’s thinking about that one scholarly article that he read six months ago – he got into a heated debate about it on one of those online forums, he stayed up all night arguing with GuitarLovr1995 –

“Okay,” Mikleo says. “I’m glad. This stuff has been eating me up a lot, and… This is one of those rare instances where I’m glad I was wrong.”

He takes a deep breath and the image of floodgates closing comes to Sorey’s mind. He knows that Mikleo must have put a lot of thought into the whole talk he’s giving Sorey tonight. Sorey also knows that the time will come when he has to give an important talk like that, too, in regards to his… Complex Feelings.

The thing is, Sorey was never really a thinker.

He’d much rather go with his gut intuition than analyze a situation from a bunch of different viewpoints, mostly because the whole analytical process tends to make Sorey feel worse – as if he’s going in a bunch of circles.

Right now, he feels like he’s on the same page as Mikleo. His gut is telling him that. He can  _clearly_  see what Mikleo wants for their relationship, and Sorey knows what he wants, too.

So, as Mikleo exhales and looks up at Sorey, expectantly, waiting for some sort of reaction, Sorey knows just what he has to do.

Does it have the potential to ruin every single thing about tonight? Yes.

Does it have the potential to ruin every single thing about the past few months? Absolutely.

Does it have the potential to ruin every single thing about Sorey’s life? Totally and completely.

But he leans down and presses his forehead against Mikleo’s and does it anyway.

Mikleo’s lips are a little chapped but still very soft, and he tastes like minty toothpaste and the cheap beer they serve at Spiritcrest. He’s warm, though. Very warm. Sorey wants to hold him close and pretend that this isn’t changing everything.

But the panic sets in and he pulls away. “Jeez, Mikleo, I’m sorry –”

Mikleo props himself up, standing on his toes, and presses his lips against Sorey’s while holding onto the front of Sorey’s hoodie. It’s so surreal that Sorey feels like he’s going to wake up, back at Spiritcrest, drenched in cold water.

This is all just a dream. The wintery air and the stars all around them, the silent streets and Mikleo’s lips against his. It’s a pre-show dream, and Dezel couldn’t wake Sorey up on his own so Zaveid threw a bucket of ice-cold water on him. Sorey was always a heavy sleeper, and his dreams  _do_  get eerily creative, sometimes.

It’d make sense.

But Mikleo pulls away from Sorey and the tips of his ears are red. He can’t look at him directly, he’s looking down at the pavement. It’s all real. Sorey’s not dreaming.

“That…” Sorey swallows and he can still taste Mikleo’s lips. “That was neat.”

“Yes, Sorey,” Mikleo agrees. He can’t look up from the pavement, not yet, but he smiles. “That was very neat.”

Sorey wonders if there’s a limit to how happy one human being can be.

~

They have another long talk on the way back home. Mikleo didn’t bring a jacket, so he ends up in Sorey’s hoodie once again. (Sorey’s beginning to wonder if he should just give it to Mikleo.)

As it turns out, Mikleo felt a lot of the same “complex feelings” that Sorey felt for him. Similarly, he wasn’t sure when they started, but…

Their kiss felt right, and they  _did_ decide that they wanted to stay with each other, no matter what.

So, in a manner that is very much Sorey’s style, they decided to go with the flow.

Now, they’re sitting on the couch back at their apartment. It’s past 4a.m. and Sorey is marveling over the fact that he’s kissed his best friend six times and the world, somehow, has not caved in on him.

He feels like he should text his other friends about this, since they were a crucial part of this particular development (in the form of much-needed encouragement, reassurance, and serendipitous performance skills), but it might be a bad idea, all things considered. He’ll let them know tomorrow.

“The past twenty-four hours,” Mikleo says, “have been so much.”

“So much of what?”

Mikleo shrugs. “Just so  _much_.”

“Yeah.” Sorey nods. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

 “…How are we going to tell Gramps?” Mikleo asks, quietly. “That we’re, um…”

Kissing? Dating? Together?

Sorey doesn’t know how to define it yet, either, so he doesn’t.

“I don’t know,” Sorey says. “But he’ll be fine with it! I’m positive!”

“Hm.” Mikleo curls into Sorey’s side, his head resting against Sorey’s shoulder. “He’ll probably just yell at us for not calling him sooner.”

Sorey laughs at that. “That’s so true.” It’s dark and the adrenaline’s finally all gone. Mikleo’s warm against him and his eyelids feel heavy.

“I still can’t believe that little Sorey’s a rock star,” Mikleo muses.

“Hey! You’re the one opening for big, fancy shows, Mikleo,” Sorey replies.

“Oh, please,” Mikleo says, and he doesn’t press it further.

Sorey knows he should take a shower or something – he must smell sweaty and gross – but Mikleo’s not moving so he decides against it for now.

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that. Sleep is creeping up on him when Mikleo shifts off his shoulder.

“I want to make music with you,” Mikleo says, the moment so quiet that Sorey almost misses it completely. “Proper music. Not just us goofing around like usual.”

“I want that, too,” Sorey replies. “Let’s do that.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Mikleo’s very still for a moment, but then Sorey feels his lips quickly peck against his cheek.

“Thanks, Sorey,” Mikleo says.

Sorey leans onto him, holding him closer.

~

When Sorey wakes up the following morning, he feels gross.

Still happy, of course, but decidedly gross. He figures it’s partially because he slept in his concert clothes (even the feather earrings), but also because he fell asleep at roughly 4:30a.m., and, now, it’s 9:30a.m.

The first thing he realizes is that Mikleo’s not in bed. The second thing is that he’s hearing a piano.

Disoriented, Sorey rubs his eyes and stumbles out of bed. As if he’s on autopilot, he heads to the living room, following the music to get to Mikleo. One he gets to the doorframe leading into the living room, he stops.

Mikleo’s there. He’s changed out of his clothes from last night and isn’t playing the piano, like Sorey originally thought – no, he’s moving books around, trying to stuff them onto the already-full bookshelves. He’s humming along softly under his breath, too, and there’s a spring in his step, as if he’s dancing, but not quite.

Sorey stands there, half-asleep; just watching him. The stuff that happened last night still feels unreal; not quite a dream anymore but also not exactly reality.

“Holy cr – Sorey!” Books crash down to the floor.

“Sorry!” Sorey exclaims, rushing over to pick them up. “Did I scare you?”

“Of course you did!” Mikleo huffs, indignantly. “Jeez, don’t just stand there…”

“Sorry, sorry!” Sorey’s hands are full of books. “I’m totally zonked out!”

Mikleo raises his eyebrows as Sorey gives him the books. He then turns around, trying to put them on the shelf.

Something about the atmosphere is  _really_ awkward, Sorey realizes as he stares at Mikleo’s back. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “So… What’s this?”

“Hm?”

“The music.”

“Ah,” Mikleo says, softly. “It’s Chopin’s  _Minute Waltz_.”

“Chopin! I know him!” Sorey pauses. “…Not personally.”

Mikleo turns back around; most of the books have been successfully stowed away, but he’s still holding one. “Really, Sorey?  _Not personally_?”

“Unfortunately, nope!” Sorey laughs. “Just from the books! And you, of course.”

“Sorry if it woke you up,” Mikleo says. He’s a little skittish, but Sorey likes that.

“It didn’t,” Sorey replies. “I woke up because I felt all gross.”

“You look gross, too.” Mikleo steps around Sorey and makes his way to the couch. “You should shower.”

“Good call!” Sorey stretches. “Okay, I’ll do go that!” He makes a mental note to check his phone. He has a lot of texts to send, in light of the Mikleo development…

Then again, he doesn’t know if it’s okay to tell anyone about it just yet.

Chopin’s  _Minute Waltz_  ends, and another piece begins.

“Uh, hey, Mikleo?”

“Hm?” Mikleo’s sitting on the couch, already engrossed in his book.

“Is it okay if I tell my friends that we were kissing, and that you like me back and stuff?”

Mikleo splutters and almost drops his book again. “That would be  _alarmingly_ sudden for them, wouldn’t it?”

Sorey shrugs. “Not really. They know that I like you.”

“…They  _know_ that  _you_  like  _me_?” Mikleo stares at Sorey, eyes wide in shock.

“Oh!” Sorey clears his throat. “They just found out, actually – the day before the show. I think Rose had some master plan to get us together. It was everyone’s motivation to make the show suck less, actually.”

“I see.” Mikleo’s pointedly looking away from Sorey, focusing on the light-blue living room rug beneath his feet instead.

“So, uh…” Sorey’s painfully aware of how badly he needs to shower. “Do you want to keep it quiet for now?”

“Not particularly.” Mikleo shrugs. “Telling them would just mean that this is  _something_.”

“…Which it is,” Sorey says. “Right?”

Mikleo isn’t the type of person to half-heartedly commit to something then back out, though they  _did_  start have their  _heart-to-heart ft. kissing session_  at approximately three to four in the morning… Right after a rock show held at a bar.

To an outsider, that might be the setup for a bad decision, but… To Sorey? It’s just perfect.

Mikleo finally makes eye contact with him, his violet eyes piercing and expression completely serious. “Yes. For me, it is.”

“Same here,” Sorey says. “You can tell Alisha, too.”

“I will…” Mikleo’s voice trails off. “…She already knows that I like you.”

Now it’s Sorey’s turn to get flushed. “W-What?! Really?!”

Mikleo covers his face with his book. “Ugh! This is embarrassing. I told her after the performance we did. The one at Pendrago Hall.”

“Seriously?!” Sorey’s elated.

“Yes,” Mikleo says. “ _Seriously_. I let it slip. She was overjoyed. That was why she wanted to go to Spiritcrest, originally… Though she  _did_ notice Rose in the crowd at the recital.”

“She did?”  
  
Mikleo smirks. “Jeez, Sorey. So many questions. Look, Rose was screaming in a sea of otherwise polite applause. It’d be hard to miss her.”

“True.” Sorey feels bad for not cheering loudly for Mikleo, now. He stood and clapped but he should’ve made more of a scene… He has to do that next time.

“Anyway. I’m fine with telling our friends,” Mikleo says. “I don’t want this to be a secret from them.”

“Me neither,” Sorey says. He’d probably let it slip, anyway. Or Lailah would pry it out of him…

“Cool.” Mikleo looks back down at his book. “Okay. That’s settled, then. Go shower, I can smell you from here.”

“Right, right!” Sorey dashes off, back towards their bedroom so that he can  _finally_ stop feeling like a gross blob.

 _That was a good talk, though_ , he thinks as he takes his earrings off.  _I’m glad that we’re serious_.

Sorey considers his future with Mikleo. It might last for a very long time. It could even be forever. Of course, that was wishful, potentially naïve, thinking. Everyone always calls Sorey naïve, anyway… Personally, he doesn’t see the harm in  _thinking_  about it.

It’s not like he just met Mikleo or anything. Mikleo’s always been a constant in his life.

He takes a shower and it feels like being reborn. He sings the chorus of  _Constrictor_ , the first song that his band wrote together, while he shampoos his hair.

Once he’s all done and dressed in clean clothes, he walks back into the bedroom, grabbing his phone off his bedside table.

He checks his texts, first.  
  


[  **8 new messages**  ]  
  


He’s completely unsurprised, and also glad that he put his phone on silent right before the show. It’s not that he didn’t want to talk to anyone; Sorey generally always wants to talk to his friends.

It’s just that the whole Mikleo heart-to-heart would’ve probably been ruined if Zaveid just-so-happened to send him a picture of that one green frog. Sorey likes the frog a lot, but, still.

Anyway, he starts off with Rose’s messages.  
  
  


**Rose**  [3:43a.m.]:  
SOREY HOLY SHIT ALISHA LIVES IN THIS BIG-ASS HOUSE.  
ITS SERIOUSLY THE LARGEST HOUSE IVE EVER SEEN.  
SHE IS PASSED OUT IN THE PASSENGER SEAT.  
IM SO FUCKING SCREWED DUDE IT WAS NICE KNOWIGN YOU.  
  
  


Judging by the fact that there’s more texts from Rose, Sorey assumes she didn’t actually meet her demise. Still, Sorey wonders just  _who_ Alisha is. He didn’t really get to know her last night… She was pretty quiet about her personal life.  
  
  


**Rose** [3:47a.m.]:  
Dez woke Alisha up, disregard previous freak out.  
Except she’s still obviously drunk, so I’m still screwed!  
Just not *AS* screwed, you feel me? Leaning more towards moderately screwed.

 **Rose** [3:59a.m.]  
Zaveid (n): a drunk liar; a fool who spreads misinformation  
ignore any and all texts he sends you  
If he wasn’t part of your band,  
I would’ve thrown him into the cold winter night a long time ago :3c  
  
  


Sorey tabs into Zaveid’s messages, curious about what she’s referring to.  
  
  


**Zaveid** [3:59a.m.]:  
Rosei s  <3 Aliha my han  
Man  
  


He’s not entirely sure what this message means, but, judging by the heart emoticon, Rose probably made her crush on Alisha even more evident. He’ll have to nag them for details, later.

He goes back into Rose’s messages.  
  
  


**Rose** [4:07a.m.]:  
Anyway, Alisha is home safe. We had a slight situation w/ her… Uh?  
Sister? Aunt? Live-in Butler Lady? I don’t know.  
But we handled it. Somehow.  
Dezel covered Zaveid’s mouth. (◡‿◡✿)

  
  
Sorey cracks up at that. Dezel’s had a lot of experience with keeping Zaveid quiet in those kinds of situations – likely more than he’d care to admit. He scrolls down more, since she left one more message.  
  
  


**Rose** [4:15a.m.]:  
Aaaand now we’re home. With Zaveid. He’s on the floor.   
Hope you and Mikleo got home safe, too!   
Also hope that the reason why you haven’t replied to me = you’ve been up to some Activities™ with a certain someone…. Lololol  
  
  


_Guess I’ll just own up to it now_ , Sorey thinks.  
  
  


**Sorey** [10:01a.m.]:  
Yeah, ummm, funny story, actually!  
You’re totally right! I was up to some Activities™ :P  
(In the good way!)   
Thanks for getting Alisha home safe and not throwing Zaveid out of your car!  
I want updates later!  
  
  


He tabs out of that message window and scrolls to Lailah’s.  
  
  


**Lailah** [4:06a.m.]:  
Hi Sorey!   
I didn’t get Mikleo’s number. Please remind me to get it next time. He’s a lovely person :)  
Hope you both got home safe. I’m sure you have a LOT to talk about … ;)  
Try to keep it inside, it’s cold out there!  
~ Lailah ~  
  
  


Of course, Lailah’s intuition was right; it always is. Sorey understands why she’s in a band with Rose. They always seem to know  _everything_ , as if they’re privy to some sort of top-secret script about Sorey’s life. Either way, they’re spookily observant.

**Sorey**  [10:02a.m.]:  
Thanks Lailah!  
We had a good talk, yeah! It turns out that he likes me, too. (^____^)  
I’ll tell you more later at Spiritcrest!

  
  
Sorey scrolls down to the last message. It’s from Edna.  
  
  


**Edna** [8:03a.m.]:  
The new issue of Weather Vane is out tonight.  
I know you’re distracted by your little Meebo but don’t forget to buy a copy.

  
  
It’s a good thing that Edna texted him – Sorey  _completely_ forgot about this month’s issue. He wonders what she thought about last night’s show as he stuffs his phone back in his pocket…

…Only to feel it vibrate against him the moment it’s in there. He pulls it out again and sees that he has another message from Rose.

  
  
**Rose** [10:02a.m.]:  
DUDE WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HIM?????  
I’d accuse you of messing w/ me but you’re too pure for that  
I’m coming to pick you up right now, we NEED to talk IMMEDIATELY  
  
  
  
That was the  _exact_  reaction that Sorey expected. He’s grinning as he texts back.  
  
  


**Sorey** [10:03a.m.]: **  
** Sure thing (^ ^)

 **Rose** [10:03a.m.]:  
Don’t ‘(^ ^)’ me, you sly devil!  
I’m so proud!  
  
  


Sorey wonders just what mental images she’s coming up with. He puts his phone away, figuring it would be best to tell her the details in person, and walks back out of the bedroom.

Mikleo’s still in the living room, but now he’s lying down across the couch. His head is propped up under a cushion and his breathing is steady and soft. The book he was reading is resting on his chest, and his eyes are closed.

And, of course, his music is still playing.

Sorey smiles at him, even though he can’t see it. He’s glad that Mikleo’s getting sleep – he was still awake when Sorey finally passed out last night. Rose will be here soon, and Sorey wonders if it’s worth making a quick breakfast. He’s hungry but he might wake Mikleo up if he even  _steps_ into the kitchen. Getting something on the road might be better… Or maybe he can save some money and mooch off Dezel. Dezel’s cooking is second only to Mikleo’s, Sorey thinks. Of course, Rose would insist that Dezel’s is better, but Sorey knows the  _truth_.

He grabs his keys and puts on his boots, eyeing his guitar case. He doesn’t know if he should take it with him or not... He had to lug it around all day yesterday; giving his back a break today sounds like a good idea.  He decides that he’ll just come back for it later.

He reaches out for the doorknob, when –

“Sorey.”

Sorey pauses, turning back around. “Did I wake you up? Darn, I was being so quiet, too!”

Mikleo blinks, sleepily. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

“You totally were,” Sorey retorts. “I’m going to Rose and Dezel’s place. You wanna come?”

“No, that’s okay.” Mikleo rubs at his eyes, putting his book on the coffee table (Sorey recognizes it as one of the history books that he asked Mikleo to pick up) and getting off the couch. “And, no, it’s not for any  _deep_ reason. I just want to practice. I didn’t play yesterday, it has me antsy.”

“Okay, hope you have fun!” Sorey decides he’ll be brave. “Do you wanna come to Spiritcrest later?”

He wants Mikleo to develop a habit of going down there, too. He knows it might be a lot to ask, all things considered, but…

“Sure.” Mikleo walks over to Sorey, his arms folder. “Should I aim for any specific time?”

“Maybe around 6? We can eat there, too.”

“Didn’t you call the food ‘greasy,’ before?” Mikleo asks, amused.

“Yeah, but, you know…” Sorey shrugs.

“I know. I’m just kidding,” Mikleo says. “Of course I’ll come.”

“I have practice after, too,” Sorey says. “So Zaveid can give you a ride back here. I’ll have to pick up my guitar, I don’t wanna lug it around all day…”

Mikleo’s frowning, though. Sorey tilts his head.

“Mikleo?” He asks.

“You have practice after Spiritcrest?”

 _Does that bother him_? Sorey gulps. “Yeah, like usual. I mean, I don’t have work tomorrow, either, so, uh…”

“No, that’s fine,” Mikleo says. “Um…”

“Is something wrong?” Sorey asks, brows knitted in concerned.

“Definitely not. It’s just… Could I maybe – Ugh, crap.” Mikleo breathes in and tries again. “I want to go with you, if that’s okay. To see you practice.”

“You wanna practice with us?!” Sorey exclaims. “Mikleo! That’s – Wait, Zaveid doesn’t have a piano. Shoot! I wonder if he could buy one…?”

“No, don’t make Zaveid buy an entire piano for me,” Mikleo says, and Sorey can tell that he’s holding back a smile. “I want to watch.”

Oh, right. Mikleo doesn’t know about the Spiritcrest gang’s additional goal – to get Mikleo to join the band. Sorey isn’t sure how that’s going to pan out, to be honest. The fact that Mikleo  _wants_ to play music with Sorey – and watch his band practice – is promising, though.

“Of course you can!” Sorey says, nodding. “I’ll let Dezel and Zaveid know! I’m sure they’ll be cool with it.”

“Alright,” Mikleo says. “Then… I’ll see you later? At Spiritcrest.”

“Yeah!” Sorey nods, thrilled about  _everything_ currently occurring. He reaches out, touching Mikleo’s arm, and leans down to give him a parting kiss. It’s small and quick but Mikleo tenses up a bit, regardless.

“I’ll see you later,” Sorey says, grinning as he pulls away.

“G-Get that cheeky smile off your face!” Mikleo retorts. “You jerk! That was unfair.”

“What?” Sorey laughs. “How? I’m allowed to do that stuff, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but it was still unfair.” Mikleo shoves him, gently, towards the door. “Now, get out of here, Sorey Shepherd.”

“Will do, Mikleo Rulay,” Sorey teases as he opens the front door, stepping out into the apartment complex’s hallway. “Have fun practicing and reading the books that  _I_ asked for!”

“And just  _who_ was the one who picked them up for you, you ingrate?” Mikleo retorts, as Sorey laughs and closes the door behind him.

~

“…So, that’s the story,” Sorey says, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I guess he likes me too.”

“I’m not surprised,” Rose says. “Of course he likes you too, that much was  _so_ obvious.” She sips her coffee. “But I  _am_ surprised that you confessed, Mr. Complex Feelings.”

Sorey shrugs, grinning sheepishly. “The concert adrenaline helped.”

He’s in Rose and Dezel’s apartment. It’s always meticulously clean; cleaner then Mikleo and Sorey’s place, since Dezel and Rose have less books piled up all over the place. Dezel made waffles earlier and set some aside for Sorey the  _moment_ Rose told him that he’d be coming over. Frankly speaking, Sorey’s honored.

“I, for one, am  _so_ proud!” Lailah exclaims. Sorey didn’t know that she was going to be here, too. Apparently, Rose stormed into her apartment and broke the news about Sorey and Mikleo’s new relationship before Lailah could even check her texts.

Lailah wasn’t mad, though. No, she was the opposite of that – she leapt into Rose’s minivan, still in her pajamas… That’s why she’s currently sitting at the kitchen table in a black slip dress.

“Pfft.” Rose snorts. “I’m proud of you two. Lailah, we gotta have a  _friendly_ talk with Meebo later. Oh, shit, wait.” Rose’s eyes widen. “What are we supposed to do with all of the phases we came up with?!”

“Phases?”

“You’re better off not knowing them, Sorey,” Dezel calls out from the kitchen, his fingers trailing over the Braille labels on the microwave. He’s wearing a pink apron with a fuzzy cartoon rabbit character on it. Rose got it for him as a joke, but Sorey’s pretty sure that he ended up liking it a lot.

“Next up was locking you and Mikleo in a room together,” Rose says, ignoring Dezel.

“I was thinking about that one room backstage in Spiritcrest, specifically,” Lailah adds.

“Oh, I know what you’re talking about,” Sorey says. “I always thought that was more of a closet than a room.”

“Even better.” Rose sits back in her seat, smug. “Maybe we should do it anyway.”

“Now that Sorey knows, it kind of defeats the purpose,” Dezel says, walking over to the kitchen table with a mug of coffee. The mug’s in the shape of a cartoon cat’s head.

“Whatever, Dez!” Rose sticks her tongue out. “Anyway, Sorey. Does this mean that you’re giving up on recruiting Mikleo, band-wise? You kinda got the prize already, so…”

“The prize?” Sorey asks.

Rose rolls her eyes. “The  _relationship_. The romance and all it entails.”

“Oh,” Sorey says.

“Why does that matter?” Dezel asks. “It’s not like we wanted Mikleo to join just so Sorey could get in his pants. Mikleo’s not some run-of-the-mill guy.”

“True,” Rose says. “Like, before I even  _knew_ that you were head-over-heels for Meebo, I wanted to know why the hell he wasn’t in your band.”

“And we could use someone else with musical knowledge,” Dezel says. “Besides Sorey and myself.”

“What about Zaveid?” Rose asks, already grinning.

“What  _about_  Zaveid?” Dezel retorts, and Lailah giggles.

Sorey’s folds his arms, deep in thought. He knows Mikleo better than anyone, so it’s not like being in a band together would be some sort of relationship deal-breaker. It’s not exactly  _necessary_ , but it would be nice.

“He  _did_  say he wants to play with me.”

“Oh, I’ll bet he does,” Lailah says, still giggling.

“Ha! Nice!” Rose high-fives her and Sorey’s very confused.

“Just ask him from, like,” Dezel does air quotations, “a boyfriend’s perspective.”

Boyfriend?! Sorey splutters. “B-Boyfriend…”

“Yeah. Get used to that title, dude.” Rose knocks back some of her (spiked) orange juice. “That’s a good point, though, Dezel. Thirst doesn’t have to motivate  _everything_.”

“Speaking of thirst, how’d it go with Alisha, Rose?” Lailah asks.

Sorey perks up. “Zaveid’s message had a heart emoticon between your names!”

“We made out and are totally getting married tomorrow,” Rose replies, overly cheerful. “You can be the bridesmaid, Lailah.”

“How wonderful!” Lailah exclaims, going along with Rose’s joke as Sorey starts laughing.

“She accidentally touched Alisha’s boob when she was helping her out of the minivan,” Dezel says, very matter-of-factly and completely ignoring Rose’s attempt at changing the subject.

“Don’t tattle, asshole!” Rose hollers.

“We’d find out from Zaveid later, anyway,” Lailah says. “Likely dramatized, too.”

Zaveid’s passed out on the floor of Dezel’s room. He’s a very heavy sleeper.

“Also, she described herself as Alisha’s  _gal pal_  when a woman asked who she was,” Dezel continues, his voice still flat.

“It’s true!” Rose exclaims. “I’m a gal! I’m her pal!”

“You’re so sly, Rose,” Lailah says, wistfully. “I’m proud.”

“Thanks, I did my best,” Rose says. “Even though the lady who greeted us was fucking  _scary_. Hot, but scary. Her name was Mal… Something.”

“Mal-something?” Sorey will have to ask Mikleo about this person, later… He might know her.

“Yeah. It was like four in the damn morning and she still looked totally on-point.” Rose brushes some hair out of her face. “Seriously, who the hell pulls that off?”

“Did Zaveid hit on her?” Lailah asks.

“What do you think?” Rose replies with a small groan.

“Oh dear.”

“I covered his mouth,” Dezel says. “As a precaution.”

“Ah! So, Dezel took the  _hit_ for everyone!” Lailah exclaims, and Rose groans again while Dezel does a little snort-laugh. He masks it as a cough, but Sorey still catches it.

“Maybe we can alter the phases that you guys made up,” Sorey says. “Since Mikleo and I are together, we can use them for Rose and Alisha.”

He doesn’t mean anything overly devious by it, but Rose gives him a very unamused look while Lailah nods, very excitedly.

“That’s an  _excellent_ idea, Sorey,” Lailah says.

“I’m never going backstage again,” Rose states. “ _Never_. I’m staying as far away from that damn closet-room as possible.”

“Are you questioning the effectiveness of our own plan, Rose?” Lailah feigns offense. “I’m  _hurt_!”

“No, no!” Rose raises her hands defensively. “Believe me, that’s not it. More like, Alisha’s family is rich as hell and they’ll definitely think that I’m trying to kidnap her or something.”

“Rose is secretly an assassin,” Dezel monotones. “Don’t you know? The sunny disposition is all a front.”

“Enough with the sass, Dez!” Rose shoves him playfully. “I’m positively delightful,  _and_ I’d make a kick-ass assassin. Alas, I have devoted my life to the mighty gods of rock.”

“And serving coffee,” Lailah adds.

“Day jobs don’t count!” Rose says, laughing. “My point still stands, though! I’m probably on a hit-list now.”

“I don’t think Alisha’s family is wary of you,” Sorey says. “I mean, you  _did_ get her home safe last night.”

“Oh, you know me,” Rose says. “I’m just so chivalrous. Always such a good example.”

Dezel snorts and Rose shoves him again.

“Don’t worry. Hit-list or not, I’m totally going to woo Alisha over in the very near future,” Rose continues. “Just wait for it. She’s already at faithful fan status. It can only go up from here.”

“Whatever you say,” Dezel says.

“I’d be more worried for Alisha,” Lailah says, giggling. “Given how protective Dezel is.”

Rose groans. “You should’ve heard him in the van last night. He gave her the twenty-questions, and she was  _drunk_.”

Sorey can picture that so clearly. “How’d that go?”

“Terribly,” Rose replies, before Dezel can. “Alisha fell asleep in the middle of one. Umm, I think he asked her where she was working, or something.”

“Last time I checked, that was a perfectly normal,  _human_ thing to ask,” Dezel retorts.

“Very much so. I’d fall asleep if someone asked me that,” Lailah says. “During the day. While sober.”

Rose guffaws. “Lailah, you work at a record store. That’s more exciting than like, all of our jobs  _combined_. But anyway!” She rubs at her eyes. “Let’s take bets on how Zaveid’s gonna react to the  _Sorey-and-Meebo development_. I think he’ll pick Sorey up, maybe throw him while howling in excitement.”

“He’ll get broody,” Dezel states. “And he’ll demand company tonight, too.”

“Oh, oh! I think he’ll make a lot of very sexual jokes in a very short span of time!” Lailah chirps.

The three of them get into a spirited debate about their proposed Zaveid-reactions and, despite it all, Sorey grins to himself.

He couldn’t ask for a better group of friends, that’s for sure.

~

“‘ _Dezel and the Boys_ (formerly known as:  _Zaveid and the Boys_ ,  _Sorey’s Shepherds_ , and  _Shit I Don’t Know_ ) delivered a semi-tolerable live show experience. Perhaps this is because they only performed two songs – one being a decent cover of a moderately okay albeit overrated ‘classic,’ and the other being a vaguely melodic train-wreck of an original work. Regardless, the improvement is fairly obvious and we hope that they will continue to not severely suck.’” Sorey peeks up from  _Weather Vane_ , examining the faces of the rest of his band.

Zaveid’s leaning back on his couch, very smug. Dezel is next to him and he looks like he just swallowed an entire lemon.

They picked up a copy of the magazine as they were leaving Spiritcrest… Now’s the moment of truth, so to speak.

“It goes on to say that Zaveid is a ‘disgusting brute’ who needs to keep his shirt on,” Mikleo mutters, pointing at the paragraph. He’s peering over Sorey’s shoulder, also reading the article.

Zaveid laughs. “Gotta love Edna.”

“She also says that your drumming’s very powerful!” Sorey exclaims. The text says  _needlessly powerful_ , to be specific, but Sorey’s going to omit that. Mikleo seems to get the hint, because he doesn’t call it out, either.

“She has some stuff to say about Dezel and Sorey, too,” Mikleo continues. “Here, see? ‘Dezel is still vastly superior to the rest of his bandmates, which makes us wonder why he’s sticking around with them. Consider this a word of advice, Dezel. If you’re waiting for a sign, here it is.’”

“Duly noted,” Dezel says, grimly.

“She also says that Sorey is improving,” Mikleo says. “‘He has a fresh yet warm voice, unpolished enough to keep the vocals unique.’ Hm.”

“Nice!” Sorey puffs his chest out.

“Guitar-wise, she says you’re ‘incessantly lively’ and urges you to tone it down, since the liveliness apparently makes your playing sloppy.” Mikleo glances at Sorey. “What do you think about that?”

“I think we’re doing just fine,” Sorey says. “We wanna have lively performances, right?”

“Fuck yes we do,” Zaveid says, doing a lazy thumbs up. “That was a  _significant_ improvement from the last one she wrote.”

Dezel winces at the memory.

Sorey nods. “Definitely!” There were lots of negative words, last time. Words like  _amateurs_ ,  _talentless_  and  _vile_. Sorey’ll take this light criticism over that  _any_ day.

The Spiritcrest group (minus Mikleo and Alisha, if they count, now) spent the whole day at Rose and Dezel’s apartment, lazing around.

Zaveid called in sick for work as soon as he woke up. When he found out about Sorey’s relationship with Mikleo, he grabbed Sorey and lifted him up. He didn’t throw him far, but he tried to. Sexual jokes followed, and, a few hours later, he took a break from Mario Kart to pull Dezel aside and beg him to spend the night at his place again.

Sorey wasn’t expecting a unanimous tie between Rose, Lailah and Dezel, regarding the bets they placed on how Zaveid would react to the news.

Apparently, anything’s possible when it comes to Zaveid.

The group went to Spiritcrest later, where they met up with Mikleo… Then they picked up Sorey’s guitar and, finally, made it to Zaveid’s condo.

“Oh, she says your lyrics are ‘abysmal,’” Mikleo says, taking the magazine out of Sorey’s hands. “No offense, but I have to agree with her there.”

“None taken,” Zaveid says, very happily.

“You focus on rhyming too much,” Mikleo continues, looking up from the magazine. “I mean, really?  _Pendrago, where the evening lights are blinding sights_? I understand wanting to pay homage to your home city or whatever, but that’s just terrible.”

Zaveid laughs so hard that he doubles over. “Dude, your fuckin’ boyfriend wrote that!”

 _No_! Sorey glares at Zaveid;  _don’t tell him that_! Zaveid’s still too busy laughing to notice, though.

“It doesn’t matter if my boyfriend wrote it,” Mikleo says, keeping his tone casual. “It sucked.”

Sorey pouts and folds his arms. “At least I tried!”

“Dezel and I focus  _mostly_ on the instrumentation,” Zaveid says. “Sorey does that stuff too, though.”

“Wait, do you write all of the lyrics, Sorey?” Mikleo’s trying to hold back a laugh, Sorey can tell!

Sorey’s face gets hot. “Yeah, I do! I like them!” That’s a lie. Sorey knows they’re terrible, but he has to fend for himself  _somehow_.

“Oh, poor Sorey,” Mikleo says, mischievously. “I’m assuming you wrote the lyrics for the song you were singing in the shower, earlier, then.”

“Stop!” Sorey feels like he’s going to start laughing, too.  _Don’t do it_!  _Resist_!

“Which song?” Dezel asks, and Sorey can pick up on the  _dread_ in his voice.

Mikleo opens his mouth – likely to recite some lines – but Sorey’s quick to interject: “ _Constrictor_.”

“Ah, our first song,” Zaveid covers his face with his hands. “Fuck, that one’s, uh…”

“Unique,” Sorey finishes. “It sounds better with instruments, Mikleo! I promise!”

Mikleo remains unconvinced.

Dezel leans forward, as if he’s going to get off the couch. “We can play it for him,” he says.

“Or we can, like, just not,” Zaveid says, pulling Dezel back down on the couch by the collar of his shirt. “In fact, I vote that we re-write that one. I like the name. Let’s keep the name. Everything else? No.”

“A surprising lack of confidence from the drummer of  _Dezel and the Boys_ ,” Mikleo comments dryly.

“ _Fuck_ that name,” Dezel says.

“I think this one has the potential to stick, dude,” Zaveid says.

“It’s almost as if you want me out of this band,” Dezel retorts.

“Nah, we don’t have enough members to want you out, Dez,” Zaveid says, ruffling Dezel’s hair. Dezel growls and squirms further away from him. “Which reminds me – Sorey, did you pop the big question to Mikky yet?”

“Uh,” Sorey says. Big question? “Yeah. We’re dating. You know that, you just said –”

“For a smart guy, you’re fucking thick, man,” Zaveid states. “Forget personal stuff! We’re in  _band mode_ right now.”

“And what a mode it is,” Mikleo says, dryly.

“Don’t make me regret what Sorey’s about to ask you,” Zaveid says, pointing in a vaguely accusatory way at Mikleo.

Sorey blinks a few times – then it clicks. Zaveid wants him to ask Mikleo to join the band.

“Already?!” Sorey asks, and Zaveid groans.

“Dude, you waited a million years to ask him out. We’re sure as hell not waiting another million for this.” He pats Dezel on the knee. “Right, Dezel? Back me up, here.”

“If we don’t change the name, I’m leaving the band,” Dezel states, instead of backing Zaveid up.

“Drop the name thing!” Zaveid hollers, and the two start bickering.

Sorey’s tries not to look at Mikleo but, whoops, he ends up looking at him anyway.

And he’s… Confused. Visibly confused.

“What are you talking about?” He asks. “What do you want to ask me?”

Sorey swallows. “It’s not a big deal,” he says. “And there’s no pressure, but we were wondering if you’d like to… Um…”

He trails off. Zaveid and Dezel stop bickering and are listening attentively.

“…If you’d like to join us,” Sorey finishes.

“Join you?” Mikleo repeats.

“Yep.” Zaveid nods. “If you wanna join this, uh, what’d Edna call us?”

“Semi-tolerable,” Dezel says.

“Right, right!” Zaveid grins. “If you wanna join this  _semi-tolerable_ band.”

Sorey holds his breath.

Mikleo’s still confused; possibly more confused than before.

“Why?” Mikleo asks. “I’ve been to Spiritcrest  _twice_.”

“But you listen to our kind of music!” Zaveid says. Sorey’s really grateful that someone else is doing the convincing because he’s temporarily lost the ability to form proper words. “Even if it’s just by exposure through Sorey.”

“Still. I play  _classical_  music,” Mikleo says. “It’s different.”

“It’d add a new dimension to our sound,” Dezel says. “Which, as you know, is currently a disaster. Hence why covers are  _always_ included in our set lists.”

“Ah,” Mikleo says. It’s not very definitive.

“No pressure,” Sorey manages to say, then realizes that he said that before. Oops. “Seriously, uh, it’s cool if you’d rather not, it won’t change anything between us romantically –”

“Or sexually,” Zaveid adds, and Sorey splutters.

“Do you see why we need someone else in this band?” Dezel says, shoving Zaveid as Mikleo gradually turns redder and redder. “Someone who  _doesn’t_  have a shit sense of humor would be great. Someone with that and  _actual_ experience in music would be a damn blessing. You fit the  _blessing_ criteria. Congratulations.”  

Mikleo chews on his lower lip and fidgets a little. “Would that mean giving up my recitals?”

“No way!” Sorey exclaims. “That’d suck! I don’t want you to give anything up!” Sorey needs to see Mikleo perform, gelled-back hairstyle and all. He really admires Mikleo’s poise on stage, not to mention his skill. He’d never ask Mikleo to give that up, there’s no question about it.

“Right,” Zaveid says. “We just want you to, y’know, add trashy punk shit to your ever-growing list of talents.”

“I just thought it’d be a good chance to play together,” Sorey says. “Seriously, if it makes you uncomfortable, then –”

“I’ll need an actual keyboard,” Mikleo interrupts him. “One of those portable electronic ones. I only have the grand piano back at our apartment and we can’t exactly lug that around.”

“We can split the cost,” Dezel says.

“It can’t be the cheapest one, either,” Mikleo says. With a little huff, he folds his arms. “I have to do some research. I’ve been eyeing some models.”

“Please don’t bleed me dry, Mikky,” Zaveid says. “I have mouths to feed.”

Mikleo rolls his eyes. “Right, Zaveid, of course you do.”

“Wait, wait!” Sorey turns to Mikleo. “Does that mean you’re gonna join us?”

“Obviously,” Mikleo says, nodding. “Are you actually surprised? I’m offended, Sorey.”

“Mikleo!” Sorey yells. He grabs onto Mikleo, pulling him into a hug. Mikleo flails a little, dropping the copy of  _Weather Vane_ onto the floor. “I’m so happy!”

“Sorey –” Mikleo squirms around in Sorey’s arms.

“Keep it in your pants, guys,” Zaveid says. “Does this make Dezel and me the third wheel?”

“There’s two of us. That defeats the purpose of the third wheel,” Dezel states.

“I’m speaking conceptually,” Zaveid elaborates, and Sorey laughs. He still hasn’t let go of Mikleo.

“Whatever,” Dezel says. “It’s not important. Thanks, Mikleo. Welcome to the band.”

“Hell yes!” Zaveid does a little fist pump, then lunges over to Sorey and Mikleo. He grabs onto Mikleo, too, and Mikleo protests even more. “Welcome to  _Dezel and the Boys_ , Mikky!”

“For my first act as a band member, I’m vetoing that name,” Mikleo says, from behind Zaveid’s arm.

“Too bad, you agreed to it,” Zaveid says. “You’re contractually obliged.”

“Where’s this contract?” Mikleo asks.

“It’s in my heart,” Zaveid states. “If you back out now, you’ll hurt my feelings.”

“We can’t have that happening,” Sorey says.

“The name is going to change,” Dezel interjects, and Mikleo laughs a little.

“Oh, this is too good.” Zaveid releases Mikleo but Sorey’s still holding onto him. “We’re going to kick so much ass. This is revolutionary. Our lyrics will stop sucking, too, since Sorey has a  _muse_ now.”

“A muse?” Sorey’s never  _wanted_ a muse, but…

“Yeah.” Zaveid nods. “Mikleo’s your muse. Him being in the band? It’s gonna make your content even better. You’ll be singing some crappy love song and – bam! The object of your affections is like, right there, playing the fuckin’ piano.”

 _Huh_. Sorey thinks that Zaveid might have a point, there.

“Okay, all of that crap aside,” Mikleo says, “I’ll help with lyrics.”

“Thanks, Mikleo!” Sorey smiles. “This is great. We really  _will_ be playing together.”

“Right,” Mikleo says, finally relaxing into Sorey’s touch… Or maybe he just gave up trying to resist the hug. Either way, Sorey’s pleased. “I wonder what Edna’ll have to say about me.”

“I bet she’ll target your hair,” Zaveid states.

“She’ll definitely use the word ‘ _twerp’_ ,” Dezel adds.

“What’s wrong with my hair?!” Mikleo smooths it down and pouts. His bangs stick back up defiantly. “And I’m not a twerp!”

“That’s the spirit,” Zaveid says.

“Edna’s like that to everyone, Mikleo,” Sorey advises. “It’s a rite of passage.”

“Aw, look, Dez!” Zaveid clutches Dezel’s arm. “Sorey’s being all  _sage-like_ for the newbie!”

Sorey beams and Mikleo finally worms free of his grasp.

“I figured as much,” Mikleo says, still pouting. “I’m just  _saying_ , she should at least target something based in reality.”

Zaveid makes a low humming sound, stroking his chin and examining Mikleo.

“I know!” He suddenly exclaims. “Your clothes. She’ll target your clothes first.”

“I dress like a  _normal person_ ,” Mikleo says.

Sorey has to resist pointing out the fact that Mikleo’s been making an effort to look a  _tad_ shabbier whenever he shows up at Spiritcrest. If he calls it out, Mikleo’ll probably get all snippy and stop doing it. Sorey doesn’t want that to happen.

“Exactly,” Zaveid says. “Edna wears all that lacy crap. Designer stuff, too. She has her own style and she’ll rip you apart if you don’t.”

“Sorey’s clothes are even shabbier than mine,” Mikleo says. “You barely even  _wear_ clothes, Zaveid.”

“But we both have  _brands_!” Zaveid insists. “Sorey’s got a vaguely grunge thing going on, especially since he’s always wearing those feather things. Also, no one wants me wearing clothes. Ever.”

Mikleo and Dezel groan simultaneously.

“Dezel here knows fashion, see?” Zaveid points at him. “Sure, he looks like a goth biker. But it’s his image, so it works out.”   

“I make Rose describe my clothing choices in  _great_ detail, asshole,” Dezel retorts. “And I check with multiple people to avoid a repeat of the Hello Kitty incident.”

Sorey hopes that Mikleo doesn’t ask for more information.

The Hello Kitty incident always puts Dezel in one of his moods.

Luckily, Mikleo doesn’t pursue it.

“But I don’t think Edna will target Mikleo’s clothes,” Dezel continues, “Considering how we, as a unit, are  _semi-tolerable_ , I think she’ll find a lot more material in our actual songs.”

“You’re only saying that because you can’t see what Mikleo’s wearing,” Zaveid says. “Listen, the guy’s wearing an  _argyle vest_ over a –”

“What’s wrong with my vest?!” Mikleo grabs at his vest defensively and Sorey cracks up.

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” he says. “It looks good!” He’s not just saying that, either.

“Love really is blind,” Zaveid says, very amiably.

“Is it too late to drop out of this band?” Mikleo glares at him, and Sorey laughs even more.

“Yep,” Zaveid replies, grinning. “You’re stuck with us, kiddo.”

“Okay, here’s a revolutionary idea,” Dezel says. “Let’s actually  _practice_ during practice.”

 “Good plan. I need to see what I’m working with,” Mikleo says. “ _Properly_.”

“Aw, what?!” Zaveid whines.

Sorey launches himself off the arm chair, grabbing his guitar in the process. “Sounds good to me!”

“Stop being so enthusiastic all the time, Sorey,” Zaveid says as he lazily stands up.

“I don’t do stuff halfway,” Mikleo says, also standing up. “I want to hear all of your songs tonight. Every single one, and that includes  _Constrictor_.”

Zaveid visibly cringes. “No!”

“You knew this was coming,” Dezel says, bass already in hand. “We only have four songs. Come on.”

The four of them make their way over to the practice area – where Zaveid’s drum set and the amps are. As Dezel, Zaveid and Sorey set up, Mikleo pulls a chair over (after pushing a ton of piled-up magazines off it, much to Zaveid’s alarm) and sits directly in front of Sorey.

“Okay,” he says. “Do your worst.”

Sorey nods, and turns to face Dezel and Zaveid. “Which song do you wanna start with?”

“Let’s just get  _Constrictor_ over with,” Dezel says.

Zaveid makes some noises of protest, but he’s sitting at his drum set and Sorey knows he’ll do what Dezel says.

Sorey turns to face Mikleo once more – the one person in the “audience,” if band members even count as audience members. He looks very calm, almost scientific – as if he’s ready to pick apart every single bit of what the band’s about to play. Now that Sorey thinks about it, Mikleo would make a good reviewer, too – but Edna would get a  _million_ times more brutal if she had even the  _slightest_ bit of competition, that much is for certain.

Sorey just can’t believe how seamlessly Mikleo’s fitting into his group. Now that Mikleo’s here with them, Sorey’s realizes that a part of him really did miss Mikleo when he was off at Spiritcrest without him. It’s as if he was subconsciously waiting Mikleo to join them all, or something.

He’s glad that they talked before any significant distance came between them.

Not to mention how the band just gained a  _powerful_ new member… Rose and Lailah are going to freak out when they hear the news.

Sorey just can’t stop grinning.

“The boys are back in town!” He declares, right into the microphone.

“Fuck yes!” Zaveid hollers from his drum set, into his mic, too. “They never left town, man!”

“What town?” Dezel asks. Sorey suspects he’s not actually looking for an answer.

“Dez, show some team spirit!” Zaveid yells, waving his drumsticks around for emphasis. “Tonight’s a night to celebrate!  _Yeehaw_!”

“Yeehaw,” Dezel monotones back at him, and Sorey cracks up.

“While this little display of camaraderie is endearing, you should be  _playing_ by now,” Mikleo says – Sorey can tell that he’s fighting a smile. “Is this how all of your practice sessions go? Do they all devolve into declarations of friendship?”

“Only the good ones,” Sorey says with a light laugh, and  _that_ gets Mikleo smiling.

“Alright, here we go! The greatest hits of  _Dezel and the Boys_!” Zaveid does the count off and Sorey takes a deep breath, ready to show Mikleo what they have to offer… All four songs’ worth.

~

“Do you think we should play it again? I think we should.”

“Mikleo, we’re fine! We’ve played it twenty times in the past hour.”

“Twenty-five times, actually. But I was kind of slow the last time. Oh, god, what if I’m slow tomorrow night?!”

Sorey sighs, though not in irritation. He’s in the kitchen, making dinner since Mikleo is in a bit of a state – namely because tomorrow night is their first show together. “You’re not going to be slow, Mikleo. Even if you are, no one’ll notice. They’re not exactly a perceptive crowd.”

“ _I’ll_ notice,” Mikleo says, with a little huff. He’s sitting on the kitchen counter.

“You might not! I never know how I’m playing during shows,” Sorey says as he flips a cheese sandwich onto its other side. It sizzles a little in the frying pan. Grilled cheese sandwiches may not be fancy, but they’re delicious and Sorey’s an absolute  _pro_ at making them.

“I’m not used to this stuff, Sorey!” Mikleo says. “I’m used to a totally different environment and I might freeze up and –”

“Mikleo, remember what Dezel said?”

Mikleo twiddles his thumbs, his lips pursed. Sorey’s amazed by how  _adorable_ he is, all the time.

“Mikleo?” Sorey presses on.

“I remember,” Mikleo grumbles.

“Okay, well, as a reminder,” Sorey leaves the cheese sandwich on the frying pan, walking over to Mikleo. “You have  _way_ more experience than most people who perform on that stage! You’ve got this.” He gives him a light kiss on the forehead.

Their new song,  _One and Only_ , was mostly written by Mikleo. Zaveid kept badgering him about how  _romantic_ it is. Mikleo threatened to rename it to  _Peas in a Pod_ , which, oddly enough, got Zaveid to drop the subject altogether.

It’s definitely their most complex song, but they’ve practiced it so many times… Sorey’s confident that they’ll pull it off.

 “You’ll burn the food,” Mikleo says, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“No way,” Sorey says, walking back over to the oven. “I’d never!”

“Sure,” Mikleo drawls.

“Don’t doubt my culinary expertise,” Sorey says, as he uses the spatula to pick up the now-grilled cheese sandwich. He slides it onto a plate on the counter beside the oven, then gets to work on another one.

“How are you so calm about this?” Mikleo asks. “This is a big deal. It’s a full show, we’re not just opening for some other band. And I’m new, too, so people are going to – Oh my god.” He stops talking and Sorey looks over his shoulder to make sure that Mikleo hasn’t fallen off the counter or something.

Mikleo’s still on the counter, thankfully. He’s covered his mouth, clearly shocked.

“Mikleo?” Sorey asks, a little warily.

“I should’ve bought the leather pants,” Mikleo says. “Zaveid was right.”

Sorey never thought he’d hear the words ‘Zaveid was right’ coming out of  _anyone’s_ mouth.

Mikleo’s definitely freaking out.

“Your clothes are fine, Zaveid was just messing with you,” Sorey says. “And he teased you about that weeks ago! Are you still upset about it?”

Mikleo groans and covers his face with his hands.

Sorey takes that as confirmation that Mikleo’s still upset about it.

“Your big recitals are way scarier than this,” Sorey says. “You’ll see.”

Mikleo makes a small, unconvinced little noise. “We’ll practice tomorrow, right? As a band, at Spiritcrest.”

“Yeah, before it opens.” Sorey flips over the other sandwich. “Rose and Alisha might pop by. Lailah has work.”

“Those two are pretty close now,” Mikleo comments. “Rose and Alisha, I mean.”

“You know how Rose is,” Sorey says, grinning.

“That I do,” Mikleo says. “Too bad Alisha’s  _almost_ as dense as you are.”

“Hey!”

“You know I’m right,” Mikleo says, grinning.

“I just think these things take time,” Sorey says.

Alisha’s already changed quite a bit. Sure, it might just be because she’s just more familiar with everyone – but still.  She’s definitely more headstrong. She has a bit of a reputation ever since Zaveid drunkenly dubbed her the  _princess_ of Spiritcrest.

“I don’t think it’ll be too long,” Mikleo says. “She goes to every single one of  _the Lady in the Lake_ ’s shows.”

“She wasn’t kidding when she said she’d be their number one fan.” Sorey puts the now-grilled cheese sandwich on top of the other one. “Anyway, Lailah wants to do wacky matchmaking stuff for them.”

“That sounds fun,” Mikleo comments, a slightly faraway tone to his voice, as if he’s mulling over possible scenarios.

Sorey laughs as he turns off the oven. “I didn’t think you’d want to!”

“Well, they would’ve done the same for us!” Mikleo retorts.

“They were planning to,” Sorey says, as he walks past Mikleo, frying pan in hand. He puts it in the kitchen sink and runs some water over it. “Too bad we beat them to it and got together.”  

“How inconsiderate of us,” Mikleo says. Sorey can  _hear_  the smirk in his voice. He turns the tap off then turns around to face Mikleo and, yep, he’s smirking.

“It’s okay, they got over it,” Sorey says, walking over to him and resting his hands on his waist. He pulls Mikleo into a kiss, feeling Mikleo smile into it.

“Why,” Mikleo says as Sorey pulls away, “did we take so long to get together?”

“I was convinced that the world would cave in on me if I confessed to you,” Sorey admits.

“Same here,” Mikleo says. He leans forward, against Sorey’s shoulder. “I wish I was better at this.”

Sorey furrows his brow. “Better at what?”

Mikleo doesn’t offer an explanation.

Sorey can’t see his face, either, since it’s pressed against his shirt.

“Hey.” Sorey pats him on the back. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Mikleo mutters into his shirt. “Tomorrow has to go perfectly, that’s all. I still owe you a  _million_ apologies for jumping to conclusions and trying to distance myself from you when we moved here, I can’t believe you’re –”

“Mikleo, that’s old news,” Sorey says, rubbing his back. “Nothing bad happened, I don’t want you to feel guilty about anything.”

Mikleo sighs, sitting back up. “It’s not guilt, it just scares me. If you didn’t invite me to Spiritcrest I would’ve – I don’t know, we might’ve never gotten together. We might’ve stopped being friends.”

“For starters, that would never happen,” Sorey says, letting his hands drop back to Mikleo’s waist. “Ever. I would never leave you alone and you’d never leave me alone. And, secondly!” Sorey smiles. “You could’ve refused my invitation. Frankly, you could’ve done a  _way_ better job at giving me the cold shoulder, Mikleo.”

“Oh, shut it,” Mikleo says. He presses his hands against Sorey’s cheeks, squeezing them, while Sorey laughs. “You’re just impossible to ignore. You’re too lovable, it’s ruining my life.”

“Good!” Sorey replies, as Mikleo lets go of his cheeks. “I feel the same way about you!”

Mikleo smiles and leans back down, pressing his lips onto Sorey’s.

The kiss is less soft than before, more determined – Mikleo’s lips are a little chapped, probably because it’s such a cold winter and Sorey hasn’t called the landlord about the broken heater yet,  _crap_. Mikleo’s tongue flicks against his lips and Sorey wants nothing more than to hold Mikleo close, as close as he can – he wants to convey it to Mikleo, convey that Mikleo’s more than good enough, that he has nothing to apologize for, that he’s always thoughtful and strong and  _kind_ –

He pulls Mikleo against himself and Mikleo’s hands are in his hair. It feels good, it feels right, it feels like home.

Mikleo pulls away, his breathing ragged, and Sorey kisses his cheek, kisses his jaw, kisses his neck. Mikleo’s skin is so _smooth_ , so soft – but Sorey knows that he's far from delicate. Mikleo pulls Sorey’s face back up, pressing their lips together again, and Sorey laughs at how stubborn he is.

“Don’t laugh!” Mikleo breaks their kiss off just to say it, but he’s laughing, too, and their lips are together again.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sorey says, into the kiss, so he’s not sure if Mikleo can hear him but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t matter.

When they pull away from each other, Mikleo leans into Sorey’s shoulder again and Sorey’s breathless.

His feelings for Mikleo are complex, yeah, but they’re also easy to define. At least that’s what Sorey thinks, now. Sorey knows that hindsight always makes  _everything_ seem so incredibly obvious, but…

Really, there’s no way around it.

He’s loved Mikleo for a long time, and he’s certain that Mikleo loves him back.

He’s not ready to vocalize it.

He will be, though. Soon.

He knows he will.

Mikleo sits up, suddenly, touching his neck… More specifically, a bright red mark on his neck which will most definitely bruise.

“Crap,” he says.

“At least you were planning on wearing that turtleneck tomorrow,” Sorey offers in his defense. Mikleo rolls his eyes and Sorey laughs – “I’m so sorry!”

“I’m fine with it, but  _you’ll_ be the one explaining this if any of our friends  _somehow_  see it,” Mikleo states.

“They won’t,” Sorey says. “You’re not Zaveid, you won’t rip your shirt off during the show… Right?”

“Of course not!” Mikleo says, incredulously. “Anyway, dinner’s cold now.”

Sorey whips his head around, towards the long-forgotten grilled cheese sandwiches. “Shoot!”

“Shoot, indeed,” Mikleo says as he hoists himself off the counter. “Should we microwave them?”

“They’ll get all soggy!” Sorey exclaims as he walks back over to the sandwiches.

“You prioritized making out with me over dinner,” Mikleo muses. “Wow, you really must like me, huh?”

“Of course I do!” Sorey says. “But I’m still in mourning!”

“There, there.” Mikleo pats Sorey on the back, very lightly. “They were the casualties of our romance.”

Sorey picks up the plate of sandwiches, feeling very helpless.

“Cold grilled cheese sandwiches aren’t too bad,” Mikleo says as he grabs another plate.

“If you say so,” Sorey replies, dragging his feet over to the kitchen table.

As it turns out, neither of them are fond of cold grilled cheese sandwiches, but they manage to eat them, anyway. Of course, Mikleo seizes the opportunity to heckle Sorey’s cooking prowess, but that’s okay. It was worth it. The sacrifice was not in vain.

Afterwards, Mikleo’s washing their dishes (and the frying pan) while Sorey stands next to him, absent-mindedly humming the chorus of their new song and wondering how the rest of the band is doing.

“Sorey?” Mikleo glances over to Sorey.

“Yeah?” Sorey looks back at him. “Do you want me to help after all?”

“No, but… Let’s play the song again,” Mikleo says, mischievously. “ _One and Only_.”

Sorey laughs. “Mikleo, you’ve practiced enough! You don’t need to play it again today –”

“Just one more time before we sleep! I’m in the mood to play music with you,” Mikleo insists. “Please?”

He looks up at Sorey, doe-eyed. It’s almost comical, seeing that expression on Mikleo – but Sorey caves in, because of  _course_  he does.

“Sure, sure,” Sorey says. “It’s not that I don’t like playing it, I just don’t want you to panic.”

“I’m not panicking anymore,” Mikleo says. “I think we’ll be wonderful.”

Sorey smiles at that.

“Just remind me to pack extra drumsticks for Zaveid,” Mikleo says as he wipes his hands on the kitchen towel.

“Will do,” Sorey says, with a little salute, and Mikleo chuckles.

As they head back into the living room together, they’re still joking around.

Mikleo steps behind his keyboard and Sorey plugs his guitar into his amp.

They start playing their song, Mikleo’s fingers dancing over his keys and Sorey strumming his guitar strings. Sorey sings – loudly, louder than he has all day – and Mikleo sings along, clearly enjoying himself, judging by the wide smile on his face.

They play their song and a part of Sorey is telling him to tone it down or else the neighbors will  _definitely_ complain – but another, more appealing part is telling him that he’s playing a song that he wrote with Mikleo and, darn it, they’ll be as loud as they want because they sound  _good_ , anyway.

When they finish, Mikleo looks up from his keyboard and at Sorey.

“That was good,” he says, and he means it.

“Definitely good,” Sorey replies, and he also means it.

They’ll play their show tomorrow and it’ll be good, too.

They’ll play all of their shows together, and Sorey’ll go to all of Mikleo’s recitals.

There’ll always be music to play with Mikleo, and Sorey wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> "lailah would look incredible with tattoos" was the statement that spawned this entire thing, no kidding.
> 
> super-special shoutout to my super-special friend, rachel! not only did she read this multiple times for me as i worked on it, but she's also the person most privy to my sorey/mikleo... flailings. (thank you so much, rachel!!)
> 
> hope you enjoyed it!


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